Harry Potter and the Baba Yaga
by Galleons 'n'Gold
Summary: Baba Yaga becomes free and finds her house at a strange place, far away from where she would prefer. In Britain, she learns about Lord Voldemort and a boy named Harry Potter. Curious of how a child came to destroy she seeks the boy out and adopts him. How will wizarding world react to Harry Potter as they find him to truly live up to his name. The Boy-Who-Lived! Rated M to be safe.
1. Prolouge

Harry Potter and the Baba Yaga.

A/N: The world and characters you recognize belong to Jk. the plot idea, belongs to me. (I hope I did this right. If not- Don't Sue me!)

Baba Yaga.

*The famous hag or Witch from Eastern Europe. Stories of her are popular in Russia, Poland, Czech Republic and Slovakia. Baba Yaga has the appearance of a peasant woman and travels through the air on a pestle and mortar with a fiery broom. She has teeth of stone or knives and lives in a house that bizarrely moves around on one chicken leg. Her house is surrounded by a bone like fence with skulls on top which shine light through their sockets. The house is situated between this world and the Otherworld. Baba Yaga can be very cruel and those who visit her may die. Sometimes she manifests her mouth as a cave and devours travelers who wander in. She maintains good order and punishes those who misbehave. Baba Yaga is good to women and others who seek her help giving them useful items for their quests. She creates such items with her pestle and mortar and cauldron of body parts. To those who fear her house and objects appear gruesome but to others who understand her true function, such things are quite pleasant. The fire-breathing Dragon, Chudo-Yudo lives with her as her pet that guards the Water of Life and Death. In earlier stories she is the divinity of life and death and is surrounded by herds and horses where she holds the reins of the four seasons and controls harvests and rain flow.*

*Taken from website.

* * *

In the world of witchcraft and wizardry, the year 600 B.C. is forever tainted. That was the time when the word Baba Yaga, was synonymous to terror, destruction and death. Villagers would flee towns when even a hint of rumor reached their ears, that Baba Yaga was near. They would not care for gold, valuables or anything but just their children and the entire village would be empty within an hour. Kings and queen would assure common people, that they would defend their kingdom but they were nowhere to be seen once Baba Yaga set foot in their castles.

Countless such castles, manors and gold were claimed by Baba Yaga. They now lay forgotten behind many layers of wards and ancient magic. It was a time when the world was at constant war, between witches and muggles. The treaties signed by them were broken only a day after and no one could foresee the future. Peace, happiness lasted only momentarily, to be shattered by presence of Yaga. She did have a clan, and number of ardent followers even when she didn't want it. They would follow her; shadow her, in vain attempt to learn the secrets uncovered by her. Some were just awed at amount of power she held, and for some it meant the new era of the dark arts. Her knowledge stored safely, on the other side of the veil, was only accessible to her. Knowledge had made her powerful, and wizards feared her for it. Only after a century later, she had met her fall.

But it had not been always this way. Very few knew the real name of Baba Yaga; fewer knew who she was before she chose her name. At that time, women as well as witches were treated as commodities. Even now, in the world they are often enslaved to serve derogatory purposes of men. But, she changed the view of how men viewed women. The slave trade of women withered away, from the 'time when Yaga was around. The men who persisted in this trade were would disappear only to be found in various states of decay with various parts of their bodies missing.

The list of good deeds was long, but her the bad deeds could fill books upon books. Wizards and sorcerers were powerless to defend themselves, much less attack her. She was just too strong, too unpredictable for them. There was no way she could be captured, she knew far much then them; how to disappear, how to evade and ways avoid death.

It all started when she, was found to be a witch and taken by the wizards. They would actively tour towns, to look for any signs of magical children. Boys would be taken in instantly, while girls would be taken for other means, mainly for providing an heir, or children for them.

The desire to prove herself, increased when at every turn, she was refused a fair treatment, and knowledge. They said, "Women are weak, and thus do not deserve such knowledge." Her argument was, "When knowledge in not given, how can one expect, to be strong?" She did not lack raw power, nor lacked the thirst to gain knowledge. It angered her greatly that she was refused both and taught how to be a good mother and 'what to do while she bore a child' and such things. She left the safe sanctuary; she knew she was not meant for such 'things'. Wizards could do as they please but she would never be subverted to their ideals. Wizards left her to fate, believing that she would be eaten by the wolves. For a moment she feared the same, but she remained strong. She would eat whatever forest would provide, and often went hungry. She learnt the art of survival at a very young age. She learnt how interact with wild creatures and beast and read many scriptures and scrolls with her, along the way. She had been sneaky enough to steal it after all. After years, she emerged strong, and the first thing she did was to take revenge upon the sanctuary.

They didn't stand a chance, but in her quest she was injured. It was then she learnt that she was not invincible and thus she strived harder and harder each day to prove her worth. She was alone and it didn't matter to her. All that mattered was power, and to prove her worth. Wizards would learn what a women could do if angered. They would learn that they were not weak as they pegged them to be. And learn they did.

What started as a noble sentiment soon became corrupted, twisted by darkness. She'd lost count of how many sacrifices she had done, to achieve immortality. She lost her humanity when she performed the darkest ritual of Necromancy. Granted she gained plenty of knowledge, experience, and she found a way to travel to other-world, but the price was too high. She was not human anymore; not even in control of herself. Her whims, her twisted desires dictated her and ravaged her soul.

It all ended, when an elite group of wizards was called, to deal with her. The trap was set, Baba Yaga knew that this was a trap and she didn't care. She'd conquered death and was too powerful to be captured by such puny mortals. Only one wizard lived that day out of the 100 wizards sent to kill her. It was not the wizard who was the leader of the group, but one who had an innate ability to manipulate the ambient energy of the magical forest to his advantage and turned her into a statue. He had no other option, they had shot her with all the deadly curses they knew! And each time she'd heal within seconds and with a wave of her hand, more would fall. Her laugh contained a morbid sense behind and the shrill voice echoed through forests. She's considered a joke, an amusement when only a mere boy not more than 30 years old stood alone in her way. The boy had cowered in fear when she approached and soon it turned into a smile, a smile which Yaga often associated with victory.

She looked around, and found herself trapped in the holy triangle. She could not leave that space! She tried to cross over the veil but at that moment, he had summoned all his power and changed her into a stone. Thus she was trapped and the wizard disappeared. He did not want to claim the victory, or recognition. He just wanted the madness, the evil to end. Besides he had only a few days left to leave. He had used up all his magic, and had gone as far as spending his life energy for trapping her. Victory came with a cost, and the cost was his own life. He perished 3 days after.

In the meantime he went home to his wife and his two children. He gazed lovingly at his family; the joy of his life. He instructed the older child, of what he had done and how he had tied the curse to his life. He knew what would happen once he was dead, and had pleaded with his son to key the curse to him. The older son was intelligent and understanding. He too had lost many friends to the 'Yaga Witch' to want her back to life. After a few days, father had breathed his last, and departed in peace knowing that the future was bright for them. He knew that they would be happy, prosperous for many years. True enough, it was only a matter of time when people would connect the dots, of how and why the terror of Yaga had come to end. The Sole surviving man, out of the group was lauded and given highest honor that could be bestowed across the lands. And thus it carried on, for generations to come; prosperity, fame and various bounty on the witch were given to the family. The older son was intelligent and he did well with his wealth, and flourished in safety and security for ages to come.

The curse on the Yaga, keyed to the lineage had passed on till as far as the Halloween of '81 and kept Yaga in a stone like stasis. A tiny mistake proved to be their undoing. The family responsible for destroying Yaga, had branched out and took different names. The original name lay forgotten and no one took pains to understand how the Yaga was destroyed or trapped. The man had remained conscious only for hours explaining and transferring the key to his son. The loophole to the curse was known only to the bearer of the key and the small piece of information was lost in time. The curse was supposed to pass on as a rite of passage, which was not done by the half-brothers Carlus Potter, to his son James Potter and Arius Longbottom to his son Frank Longbottom. The curse weakened significantly, when it passed without rite of passage to James Potter and Frank Longbottom. The curse was no more when both James Potter and Frank Longbottom were killed at the same night as on Halloween of '81.

And somewhere in the bottom of sea stone statue cracked. Through the stone statue the witch gave a smile through the crack.

A/N: The idea popped up in my head, after reading many fics about harry being raised by powerful witch/wizards. This is just another attempt to recreate such beautiful story by Jk. I'm trying to stay close to the cannon version of Harry Potter but it will have some differences. This is my first attempt at writing a fic, though i have been reading many fics before.  
Ideas and suggestions are welcome, on how the character of Yaga should be molded Tips on writing the story are also welcome. Reviews certainly helps a budding writer to get his juices flowing and I would encourage you to do the same! Let me know on how the story should progress.


	2. A New Life?

Harry Potter and the Baba Yaga.

A/N: The world and characters you recognize belong to Jk. The plot idea belongs to me. (I hope I did this right. If not- Don't Sue me!)

A/N 1: I have updated the previous chapter. Your reviews are much appreciated! Baba Yaga here will be different than whatever accounts portray her to be. One, she was ugly, here she won't be. Two, she lived isolated, here she won't. Thank You for the feedback 'Man of Constant Sorrow!'

* * *

"*When visitors arrive, Baba Yaga asks them if they came of their own accord or were sent. Smart visitors say they were sent. Coming of their own accord puts them in the witch's power; they are consenting to their own doom, so nothing can save them. They must also actively seek entrance by telling the house to turn its door to them. This concept is similar to the idea that a vampire (also an Eastern European legend) can't come into a home unless invited.*"

* * *

It was the time of celebrations all around Britain and as the dark mark vanished from various places, including the potter's home at Godric's Hollow. The dark mark on the forearm formerly brilliant black, was now reduced to faint outline. The power bestowed by the dark mark had gone and it no longer remain the symbol of power, of fear. The urge to do master's bidding was gone and they felt strange sense of loss that their master was with them no more! Who dared to destroy their master? Few death eaters chose to wreak havoc on various wizarding place and families.

Soon the reality of the situation set upon the death eaters. They would be hunted down, and possibly killed. Few chose to run from their native place but others came quietly and surrendered. Only when Lucius Malfoy, plead imperious and emptied his vault into newly elected minister of magic- Cornelius Fudge, others followed suit. The minister, while hungry for gold was not blind(not completely!) and could not let go the lestrange's for what they had done. He also believed the Lucius Malfoy for his defence. The ministry was in dire need of money and any donations were welcome. What happened at the Longbottom manor, was a one way ticket to Azkaban for them. Minister wouldn't take a bribe outright. They had killed a pureblood and drove Alice Longbottom insane. The world knew the horrors of what the death eaters could do and they were glad that most of them were sent away.

* * *

And somewhere beneath the sea, the cracks furthered and the stone slowly morphed into flesh. The smile of the witch became wider.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore wondered at the prophetic words uttered by Sybil Trelawney and a smile curled his lips. The dark lord had been vanquished; if he was reading his sense correctly, Voldemort would return again. Why he felt so? For one, there was no body of Voldemort left behind. It was as if he had lost significant amount of power or life. Secondly, the dark mark did not fade completely, his most valuable and trusted spy(Newly turned spy) had had showed his mark. Hence Dumbledore could safely presume that Voldemort was somewhere recovering, bidding his time only to come back to his former glory...uh... power.

And that time, Harry Potter will need someone to rely on, someone who would show the way to destruction of Lord Voldemort. Various ideas and plots formed in his head, as he patiently waited for Hagrid to return back at Hogwarts. He could feel the trusting eyes of Harry Potter on him as zoomed into the future when Harry Potter would come to Hogwarts. Together, him as grand master and Harry Potter as his trusted apprentice would once again destroy Lord Voldemort.

And hence he arrived at the idea of keeping him with the Dursleys. The decision solidified after the horrible betrayal of Sirius Black. The first thing that he did was to seal the will of James and Lily Potter. His long hair had stood on its ends, when Sirius Black was found laughing after destroying the whole street with a single curse. Only after brushing his hair repeatedly, the hair softened from its porcupine like state. No, he was safe with the Dursleys. Assuming that the sacrifice which Lily had offered to her son, coursed through Harry's veins, the sacrifice would be preserved if he stayed with his own blood relatives.

He disregarded Minerva's objections of 'worst muggles that she had seen in a long time', and left him at the doorstep of the Dursleys, leaving behind a detailed letter of what had happened. Moreover, Harry was a sweet child and he for the life of him could never imagine someone mistreating such child- a child of prophecy no less. And thus he paced leisurely in his office as he so often did and popped in another lemon sherbet.

* * *

Somewhere in the sea the witch was finally free! She disappeared in a flash and reappeared at a known place, only to find it void of life. Nothing was there for miles and miles, not even the trees. For a moment she stood there dumbfounded, at the loss of scenic beauty she had so often beheld in her memory. The next moment she went completely berserk.

"What trickery is this!" she screeched. She turned wildly in each direction to make head or tails of the situation. She let loose her magic to find if the place was hidden magically, but she didn't find a trace! She disappear again and reappear at another location familiar to her, and found herself at an edge of the town. As she inhaled the air, her thirst to drink the blood of the child increased further, and the memories of the past exploded within. The blood ritual which she'd so often performed, drained the child of its life force and magic. And with the extra power in her body, she was a force to be reckoned with. The feeling of absolute power was highly intoxicating, and somewhere beneath she yearned to do the rituals again, to be safe behind them.

"This will not do!" she said, startled to find a buzzing town and people dressed in strange dress. There was not a trace of magic in the town, and thus this was a muggle town. Both startled and irritated at the discovery of everything was not right as she had imagined. A strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, What if she was the only Witch left? What if they had killed every last witch or wizard. She shook her head as the implications of that thought settled in.

"This simply will not do!" For a moment she'd considered attacking the village but she knew she was weak. Her stomach churned and the pangs of hunger irritated her further. She had not eaten since a long time.

The effects of rituals which were done ages ago had faded, and she was at an unknown place. She left reluctantly, to find a place to follow the familiar scent of magic and appeared at a place where magic around her calmed her down. The gentle caress she felt, managed to drain her irritation away as she made her way into knockturn alley or so as the sign read. Hungrily, she made her way to a dark, dingy pub for a meal. To her pleasure, there were free meals today and everybody was too happy celebrating the death of the dark lord.

She piled on with whatever food she could grab with her gnarled hands, and devoured them furiously. Only after an hour of gobbling down food, she breathed a sigh of relief. They were rejoicing the fall of the dark lord, a name so feared now that they wouldn't speak of it. It couldn't be me, could it? She thought. She was the 'Dark Lady' after all. And if it were how wrong they would be, she thought. Whatever the festivities may be, she had an inexplicable desire to remain hidden, in the shadows and she obliged.

Upon concentrating, she changed her appearance to a peasant girl. She soon found it odd, and made her stand out in the crowd; she added the dress styles that people wore, it was all an illusion after all. And now she was walking out of the alley, onto a new one. She stopped at a strange shop and let her eyes roam around the surroundings. It was like a market place, she thought. But it was more defined and more 'set' she thought. Yes, that was it, as she bobbed her head in agreement to herself. Her eyes flicked to a store which had books piled up everywhere. She also noticed a sweet voice shouting excitedly,

"Read all about Harry Potter. Only 3 sickles worth! Read all about the Boy-Who-Lived!" The voice died down, as the boy walked past her. She managed to grab one of the papers when the boy wasn't looking. Squelching the urge to eat the boy then and there, she tried to read the headlines of the paper called 'The Daily Prophet'.

She was familiar with old English, but these strange English made little sense to her. After trying to read for a fifth time, her patience faded. She could barely concentrate by the moving pictures of the people. Every time they made a move, she feel threatened. She tucked away the paper in her sleeve and made her way into the shop. The shop-keeper too was rejoicing and gossiping in huddled groups. She did catch snippets of conversation.

"The boy survived killing curse! Powerful! Unbelievable! He's just a baby!" Witch took a sigh, as she browsed through the collection. Acting upon a whim, she waved her hand and all the books vanished from the shelves and she too disappeared afterward. The shopkeepers didn't notice a thing. Everything was different and she didn't feel comfortable with it. There was only one place which wouldn't have changed. She was eager to go there, a place which had the same value as now as then. Her home.

* * *

Baba Yaga appeared at front of her doorstep, her home, and smiled. One thing that was permanent was her home, and it was just like she had left. Earlier it was made up of wood and hay covered the top, but now it was of stone. The wards granted her entry and a strange sensation crawled up her spine as she looked around her house. The herbs and the beautiful garden she had cultivated, were dead. To a visitor the place was a measly cave, but for her it was a beautiful house. It was completely made of stone and it held firm by magic. She had carved sigils and runes on every floor and wall in her house. These helped her in channeling energy effectively and in various rituals she'd perform. It also strengthened the foundation stone in which all the wards she'd keyed. There was potions lab downstairs and she took great care in maintaining it. And in the far room of her house, there was the most complex signs and symbols confined in a small space.

She gently let her hand roam over the wall stone as if she was greeting an old friend. It had been far too long, since he had fled her house, and it was then everything had changed including her. She touched the skull hanged at the doorknob and it illuminated instantly.

"MISTRESS!" The skull choked, trying to cry in delight.

"How much time has passed since, Nuzzu?" She said, stiffly.

"More than millennia, mistress, more than one!" Skull cried, deliriously. Witch fumed. She had assumed she had been trapped for a long time but this was outrageous.

"Where are we, now?" she said seething. Behind her stood a tall dark building and seeing dark figures floating around. Anyone could guess what it was or where her home was.

"Great Britain, mistress." Nuzzu replied. The breath of the witch became laborious, and anger seeped in she was moments away from full blown rage.

"The land shifted my lady, and there was nothing I could do." Nuzzu said sadly.

"Is the land I claimed still mine?" she asked tight lipped.

"House certainly belongs to you mistress. But the surrounding island is now called Azkaban. Belongs to the 'Ministry.'

"My dragon? He still lives?" Witch asked on the verge of screaming.

"Dead mistress, died…." The skull didn't get to finish the sentence as the witch howled in anger. The blood-curdling scream could be heard for miles away and somewhere in the Azkaban, the Warden trembled.

* * *

After ranting and raving for days she calmed down, to manageable levels. Her thirst for blood increased daily but in an unknown area, it would be best to be familiar with it first, then to get caught. She knew hunger, from personal experience, and she could handle it, at least for now. She spent a week reading through the prophet. Finally getting grasp over the 'Horrible Language' as she put it, and read other books she had 'bought' from the shop. She found it below her taste, and only book she focused on was the history books. She had to re-acquaint herself with the events of the past after all. Only then, she could begin her accent to domination over the Europe and eventually world. As she thought about it, this was the perfect time, the 'Ministry' lay in ruins, and britain bled.

She had no particular interest in britain. She had never visited here, or 'never had chance to', she thought darkly and cursed the man who trapped her.

Coursing through 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.' She noticed number of dark lords, born after her. It seemed the 'Baba Yaga' had made into the many books. She immediately became sad when they were all killed. Reading further, she was shocked that all those 'Dark Lords' had same things in common. They all proclaimed to be invincible, only to be fallen; like her. They all had terrible power and they all did horrible things- just like her, but in the end they all died or worse suffered fate worse than death; just like her, she added as she began comparing them to her.

And she sat there staring at nothing in particular. The only question going through her foggy mind was "Why? Why did they fall?". It was surreal to her and she could picture various of aforementioned people being 'put down'. History was repeating herself and now, she was scared. For her being killed or worse trapped was the worse thing that could happen. And she never again wanted to be trapped, to feel helpless. She was suddenly seized by sudden urge to kill, to drink one's blood-to do the rituals again to secure her near immortality state. But she held back, controlled her whims, for the first time she asked herself.

"Did she want to be Dark Lady, once again?" The life now felt suddenly empty and less meaningful to her. Before now, she had purpose, she had a goal, but now she was not so sure. Also, she noticed her whims and unwarranted desires and how she had no control over it. Once again, she read further to the book.

"Gellert Grindelwald was considered to be one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards of all time raised untold horrors through all of Europe. During his reign of terror, he murdered many wizards and Muggles. In 1945, at the height of his power, Albus Dumbledore confronted him due to the cries of the public and defeated him in what became a legendary duel. Grindelwald was subsequently imprisoned in his own prison Nurmengard for decades."

Her face frowned in disbelief. The book must be wrong! How is it every other Dark Wizard was brought down?! Was there no happy ending for them? It just seemed so fake to her that no one had achieved the glory that they had wanted. No matter how much powerful they were, they died in the end? Some would say that they deserved what they got, but Baba Yaga seemed perplexed. Was it meant to be so? she found herself asking. And as she again coursed through the book, she found that everyone had gone round the twist in attempt to seek power. It was never enough for them how much they had, and suddenly her own life was under her scrutiny.

History had a unique hold over the witch, and she always took care to learn from it, or change it. But this was entirely different. She was in a time, where she was no-one, and she certainly did not want to be chased again, in fear of her life. Yes, she had done rituals that would grant her near immortality, but still the she never knew peace after that. As the cobwebs cleared in her brain, she made a conscious decision. She would change, or at least not let her whims and desires dictate her. And for that she'll need to go through purification rituals.

She winced in pain, of one memory where holy water was sprinkled on her, and how it burned through her skin. It would be much more painful that just burning of the skin, the pain of all the harm and pain she'd caused will come biting back to her. Looking around her house, she remembered that feeling of what being at home brought, the peace and happiness.

She had not always been this way, she thought. When she had a home, she was beautiful young women with exception of battle scars here and there. She had a quiet and peaceful life, with her pet dragon. How she'd loved to chat with him, and enjoy the occasional rides on his back. She could sense the intention of various travelers and often took extreme measures so she would not be disturbed. No one understood how her mind worked and she hadn't bothered to find company amongst people. She used to be kind to people and would help them on various occasion, especially if it concerned their children. When the witch hunters came to burn her house, she had fled and vowed revenge on them. She did notice wizards amongst people, who had come to kill her. She had never been so hurt, so betrayed as before. She shook her head out of musing and walked around her house which no longer felt like home. She yearned for those days again, she yearned to be at home again.

She unlocked the cabinets to take out the ingredients needed for the purification rituals. The powerful preservations sigils that she drew on the cabinets had preserved most of the ingredients. She would have to buy whatever she didn't have. She vowed to change, she vowed to make this place a home.

* * *

A/N: Well this is just a filler in between the chapters. Ideas on how the story should progress are welcome! Also, since i'm not too sure of how the old magic was and some suggestions regarding various "Old Forgotten Powers" would be welcome... ;-) Don't forget to leave a review! It's nice to know what you've to say and its much appreciated!

Ps: I tried to include the link to websites from where i had borrowed info, but it got erased when I would save my work. Ah well, till next time!


	3. In-between

"Oh, Death, оh Death,  
Won't you spare me over til another year"

-Jen Titus "Oh death"

Disclaimer: The "Harry Potter" works and books belong to Jo. I write purely for my own enjoyment, and claim only my imagination as my own.

* * *

The witch didn't sleep that night or the night after. One moment, she was gathering required ingredients, the next moment she was questioning herself. The only doubt in her mind was 'will I survive this?'or 'Is it really worth it?' This new emotion was strange for her- feeling vulnerable. It didn't set with her ideals of being invincible or her being powerful. For her it was accepting the fall from greatness. She had worked hard to achieve it and now she would just let it go? The bonds formed by sacrifices would probably never go away. But she wasn't sure if they would remain active as they were before. But willingly accepting pain, death seemed unreasonable to her.

At the same time, other side of her wanted the constant voice in her head to stop. The constant urge to grow strong, be invincible, to dominate irritated her and confused her. Was it her paranoia, she didn't know; she did know that she wouldn't be able to stop her once she succumb to that urge. That face, was right beneath her skin, and she was determined to peel that face away whatever the cost may be.

The chance she'd been given by whatever intervention the universe, she did not want to waste it away. If she stayed such way, the whole place would reek of evil magiks and sooner or later wizards would come sniffing. They always did. And when her identity would be discovered she would be hunted again. She wanted to live alone, like she always did and judging from the place where she had been settled certainly felt good. No, it was better this way, she resolved. Pain she would bear; and she would come out alive. At least she hoped that it would be so. Without a second thought she took the dagger, and made a clean slice on her forearm. As the blood dripped on the goblet below, she chanted.

"I vow to go through the purification ritual. I vow to cleanse my mind, body and soul of evil. I vow to rejuvenate my spirit. I vow and thus IT SHALL BE!" She took couple of breaths and the full meaning of her vow settled on her. Baba Yaga, had to do what she had vowed. The vow would exact itself on her if she didn't; failure to do it would result in pain. A pain so terrible and exacting that going through the said vow was easy.

"What have I done…? What have I done?" she said softly. Next moment she threw a terrible tantrum and the whole house shivered by pulse of raw magic.

* * *

At nightfall the witch gathered the required ingredients. She avoided sage as it was more strong purifying agent than cedar. She had spent the day strengthening the wards around the house and now she sat in her front room clearing, shaking her head as she prepared for the ritual.

Purifying ritual was the bane of her, she realized. People had tried to use it against her, but the evil magiks had been so powerful that at the slightest hint of the ritual, it unleashed on them leaving them burnt. What would happen to her remained to be seen.

Why? Why she had to make a vow to do the purifying ritual? She had to go even further to promise cleansing her mind and body. She left no way out when she added her spirit and lit the three candles on the table situated at the end points of the triangle. Triangle would probably collect the evil magick. How much the diagram would withstand, she didn't know. She hoped for the best and chanted.

"O power of fire, work my will by my desire. Friendly spirits light my way, aid the magic cast this day." Trembling, she lit the incense and spoke, "Herb of healing, herb of hope. Herb for strength, help me cope." An unearthly scream filled the room and a dark wisp of smoke extinguished the candles. Witch looked up, exhausted and the white candles were turned black. She staggered as stood up, and took out three new candles and incense. She repeated the process and again and she continued further.

"Energy of air and sacred smoke; blow and drift away evil with each stroke. Candle flames that flickers bright, rid evil with your life." She continued to chant, firm in her resolve. She could feel the soft undercurrent of magic, surrounding her.

"Sacred water that comes to this house; cleanse all evil with each douse." She proceded to place the bowl out on the doorstep. Once again, the dark wisps of smoke extinguished the candles and they turned black. Wiping away the tears and the excruciating pain accompanied by it, she proceeded again, to light up the candles and incense sticks.

"Salt of earth both fertile and pure; against this evil make this house secure." Mustering up all the courage she could get, she spoke in what she hoped to be a strong voice.

"Spirit of this hearth and home, bless this house and give it warmth! And see that only good befalls to those who live within these walls!"

A blinding flash of light originated from the candles, the incense and the water, and the whole house was filled with white light. The witch was both in pain and awed by the power of the ritual. The sigils she had carved on walls, hummed with energy and as the last of them charged, the soft wisps of magic traveled towards her feet. It soon encompassed her whole body felt suffocated. A warm feeling accompanied her, it was the same feeling when she would sit by the hearth in the winters. Spirits were favouring her, and she embraced the pain. It was the light was the last things she saw as she collapsed on the ground and passed out.

* * *

In the near vicinity of Baba Yaga's house, there was a sea and across the sea was Azkaban Prison. It was a the height of irony that Baba Yaga lived across from prison. Strangely, this felt right to her. Perhaps it was the place no one would bother to look for 'people like her' as she put it.

The tall structure shaped as toblerone(the chocolate!), was made of black granite and marble. The dementors were slowly returning to their home, their prison. The history of how Azkaban Prison came to be was fascinating to people who knew some part of the actual story. The cover story of how the Azkaban Prison came to be founded was simple; Lord Azkaban found the site interesting and built the prison. The story was believable to most masses but some did question why built the prison there. Various suppositions were made of why Lord Azkaban found the site 'interesting' but he never did comment on the real reason of it. Lord Azkaban was a master in the dark arts. His specialty lay in the detection of dark magic in the surroundings. When Lord Azkaban had acquired a piece of land, in a bargain; he wanted to check his acquirement.

All was well, and Lord Azkaban envisioned this land to become his future home, castle of sorts. Azkaban was notoriously famous for his collection of dark objects; while people and ministry considered them to be dangerous he considered them beautiful. Due to ministry meddling, Azkaban was furious and wanted his island to become an independent nation. The Ministry of course, could not just give away an island to any Lordship just because he wanted to have it. But the minister at that time was well aware of the connections and influence Lord Azkaban held and did not want him displeased or start a war on the ministry.

So in a effort to maintain peace, and promote growth, minister offered settlement. Azkaban was required to built a prison for the wizard kind who were simply 'too dangerous' to be left in the wizarding world, in exchange, not only the ministry would cover the cost of construction but the island would be declared independent and his to rule. Lord Azkaban grudgingly accepted this contract; he was well aware that the prisoner's were his responsibility. That was a benefit to ministry as he did not have to worry of escaped prisoners. He could just dump the blame on Azkaban himself. In that island Lord Azkaban made the rules, and his rules were law. Though building Azkaban Prison was a politically influenced move, why Azkaban chose particular site for prison was very interesting.

A bit far from his castle when Azkaban went to one of his evening strolls, he felt a great fear in him and imposing power on his soldier. For a moment he was helpless do anything against it, and taking it as a sign he ordered to built the prison there. As the construction finished, Lord Azkaban was in dilemma. The prisoners were wizards and even when he had taken steps, there was too much left at the hands of fate to hope that prisoners would not escape. The name 'Azkaban' carried weight around the britain and he would be damned if any prisoners broke out. The next day his problem was solved, relatively speaking of course.

Imagine Lord Azkaban's surprise when cold dark cloaked figures floated across his structure. He was cautious at first when he approached the figures, and bowed down with respect. His policy was simple- Respect those who deserves respect, and manipulate those who can be manipulated. Either way, he would gain and this suited him just fine. This creature or whatever it was clearly classified as one Lord Azkaban respected. After hours of trying to communicate, Azkaban trying out different language; he even went as far as to call a parselmouth to 'have a chat' with the creatures. The creatures on the other hand, made very unusual noises like one would here from a telephone(an ancient one!) trying to connect to the operator.

Finally when all else failed, the creature gently entered the mind of Azkaban, and his mental protection failed the moment the skeletal hands touched his temples. He saw various pictures so grotesque and unearthly in nature that delicious chocolate pudding he had eaten earlier wanted to come out the way it got in. But he got the message and they arrived at a deal of sorts. They wanted food, and in return they would do the bidding of Lord Azkaban.

From that moment on, dementors did as Azkaban told them, and Azkaban prison was known to be the worst place on earth. The place where if one would enter, he would not come back the same. The dementors were true to their word, and guarded the prison with an iron fist. They simply crushed the will of the wizard to live, and they would soon be left without hope, and without life.

Azkaban finally got his answer of why he felt such imposing fear on him the day he took a stroll around his land. Sadly, it also proved to be the day he 'disappeared'. Azkaban, came across Baba Yaga's house. The wards of her house had begun to crumble and thus the illusion of nothingness was fading. As Azkaban caught a rare glimpse of a skull fence surrounding the house, he decided to investigate it. That was last of what people heard of Azkaban, and the wards of the house strengthened and the house transported itself to different part of the island.

No one questioned where exactly the dementors came from. If Azkaban knew, he took that knowledge to his grave. No one also questioned, the small portion of land that had came drifted this way and latched onto the main island of azkaban. And absolutely no one, took notice of strange place wizards would often brush of as 'nothing'. And no unspeakable found it strange that dementors would often visit 'strange small land' that was now part of the main island.

* * *

Baba Yaga sat in a chair and huffed. She missed her dragon, or anything to keep herself busy while recovering...er... going through the rituals. She would again perform ritual after 3 days and was currently examining her strange predicament. What to do in her free time? She was not amongst the one's who would lazily sleep away. Perhaps she could get a dragon hatchling. Gold was not an issue as her cache contained some gold items. Also she knew exactly where all the castles she had claimed lay, it was her magic after all and she would have no difficulty finding them.

And now, she was thinking about what she would do after she had done the rituals. She was not suited for such lowly task to clean pubs and serve people. Perhaps she could brush up on the arts she had found? She was a master in Necromancy after all, and as long as she didn't cross well defined lines she could safely practise it. She could learn about this new place, she thought. It certainly was better than back in her days. The world had moved on and now she would have to catch up to it. Here, she was safe. Here, no one would recognise her and she was certain that none of the her exploits were known here.

Back where she was previously settled, she would be recognised. Legends never die and thus she was reluctant in going there again. Besides, current place was not bad. She found people to be a bit obnoxious but that's it. It would be nice to learn of a new country, then to go back someplace else. Yes, she thought. First, she would brush up her arts, and then catch up with the world.

It certainly would save her from doing menial tasks. An animated corpse was a perfect servant for her in assisting her in various tasks. She contemplated other means to keep her occupied, something that'll probably go long way in keeping her interested and busy. She felt a calm cool aura descending on her, and sighed. It was the familiar tingle of death and decay, and its scent she could sniff out anywhere in close vicinity. She turned her head to see the source of such pleasant sensation and smiled as she spot a black hooded creature floating in the air, nearing her ward.

She was not familiar with the creature perse, but she knew enough to manipulate such magic in her advantage. It was time to have a chat with the creature.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Oh and I borrowed the ritual from a site called Blue-moon-manor, or something.

Ps: Its strange to compare Azkaban Prison to a chocolate box and eating chocolates wards off the effects of Dementors. Wonder what was going in mind of Jo's. Abstract reasoning? Ah well, till next time! Leave a REVIEW!


	4. Establishment

A/N: A big thanks to those who have reviewed. Trust me guys it really helps me when someone leaves a review!

Disclaimer: I always strive to be original but, given the amount of HP fan-fiction out there, almost everything has probably been done before. Oh and I don't own Harry Potter, they belong to Jk.

* * *

A mirror shows reflection of oneself, one's face. One usually expects to recognize one's own reflection on the mirror. But this was certainly not the case with a man, with sallow skin and a hooked nose. Severus Snape did not recognize what he saw when he stared at his own mirror. The bags under his eyes, the pale skin and the bloodshot eyes would led anyone to be concern over a particular individual. No, these things didn't concern him anymore. He was used to this appearance. He had been tossed around powerful figures far too long to actually care for his life. Anger, revulsion, disgust, could only describe the tip of the iceberg of how he truly felt. An instant later mirror on the wall lay shattered and he watched in strange satisfaction his reflection getting destroyed.

He welcomed the pain, and then cried out. A shard of glass had embedded itself between his knuckles. Severus Snape was a broken man. He didn't fear Azkaban, though Dumbledore would keep him out of it. Everything had come crashing down and he knew he was to blame. Even the betrayal of Black admittedly came across as a shock, but it did nothing soothe him out of his predicament. Blame lay on his shoulders, and that much he accepted, readily. Looking back at the choices he'd made, it seemed that he did everything in his power to spite Potter and his gang.

Potter was a bully, and so Snape joined a gang who bullied(and killed) on much larger scale. For Snape was satisfied for a while as he considered himself in the grand scheme of things. Potter was rich, and he would be richer, Lord Voldemort had said so! Potter got a beautiful girl, and Snape would get a lot of 'Mudbloods' for his pleasure. He didn't like the idea of committing rape, but it was the thought that counted. Yes, he could have everything he wanted. He was already powerful, and now he was appreciated for his efforts in potion brewing. He was ever so pleased when Voldemort had said, "I see potential in you, Severus."

Severus- apart from revenge, wanted recognition, Voldemort recognized it so well. In fact, as severus analyzed they all had been played. Voldemort preferred people as they could be easily manipulated, subverted for his own ends. Some for money, some for power while Severus was for potions. There was no greater goal Dark Lord wanted to accomplished. No, it was all an illusion.

Snape realized this much too late. Gradually he learnt to look past the praise given to him, and search behind those words to grasp his real intention. An year passed in flurry, and he got nothing as he was promised, praise was given freely but promises were naught. He didn't dare to ask him about such things, he had seen people getting crucioed far too often. Soon, he began questioning on what truly this was all about. This wasn't what Voldemort had promised, no he wanted all to himself. But this came after the home of Potter's was destroyed. Lily was dead and he had failed to save what truly mattered to him in the end. Her friendship.

Snape laughed at Potter at first, and laughed like the megalomaniac Dark Lord laughed ever so often. Potter who trusted his friends to a fault, Potter who would do anything for his 'friends'; little did he know that Black would go ahead and destroy his entire family. Personally he had to hand it to Black, to twist the dagger into someone's heart was not a thing one could do lightly. Maybe that mutt had finally lost his marbles and thought it would be a brilliant prank to do that. Who knows how the mind of Black worked? Yes, the insane laughter of him when he was caught supported this fact.

In his shortcomings Snape admitted that he had a vindictive streak a mile wide and he sought to go out of his way to make sure he got his way and watch other get hurt. Perhaps that was why he was his own enemy at times. He had gain this sense and still it loath to admit that he had chose wrong. Both morally and strategically. But it was true, it wasn't hard to stare at the hard facts laying right in front of him. For him there was nothing left, for many surviving the war meant a new beginning for many, he was not sure anymore. Or anything.

He wished he could just perform a memory charm and start to live his life again. But one of the sad drawbacks of memory charm was that it could take away the memories, but not the emotions. And after witnessing remnants of the war, he doubted if a memory charm would even be successful. Some memories are too deeply established to remove. Memory which had a profound effect on one's life and such. Same went to the memories which had a powerful emotion behind it. Even if Snape managed to wipe his entire memories, he would question himself why he felt such disgust with himself. There was a very real possibility that he would commit suicide.

But in truth he was a coward. He was not Gryffindor like lily; Snape was a Slytherin through and through. And for the first time he questioned of it being a good thing. Sure, he had survived. Even when playing a role of spy, he had survived. Never in his life he had dreamed that he would fool the 'Dark Lord' and live to tell the tale. But survival didn't mean a thing if he had nothing to look forward to. His life was a sad disappointment, loitered with so many problems that he was surprised that he had come through unharmed, better than others. Perhaps he should utilize it of this chance landed on his hands.

And then again, there was Dumbledore. The old coot even had the nerve of offering him the post of potion master at Hogwarts. He would constantly be on his case. The naive hope had been destroyed that Dumbledore could do anything. He had fail to do one thing that he had asked, no begged to do- keep Lily safe. Now he knew that no one was infallible; not even Lord Voldemort. And here was Albus blathering about keeping Harry Potter safe? Didn't Albus realize that he had enough hate to last a lifetime? With Potters no less?

'Ah...' Snape thought. He could already picture his response.

'Hate is such a strong word Severus.' And then he would proceed to twist the dagger more, 'He has her eyes Severus, Lily's eyes!'

Blood oozed out of his hands just as water would when squeezed out of the wet cloth. It hurt too much for too long, and there was nothing Severus could do about it. All Severus wanted to do was to rip his heart out and keep it frozen in a box. He occluded his mind before the creative ideas arrived and his dark orbs soon became vacant.

And as he made his way to potions lab in his house and darkness enveloped him. This will be his life now, this is what fate had to offer. And rather than to drag unwillingly he chose to accept it. His passion was still alive, and he would spent years caring for the thing that had always been true for him, his one constant companion.

It would allow him to ignore everything that had ever occurred, for potions brewing required absolute attention and focus. He would become a potions master possibly aim to be youngest in Europe. That had been the general idea to him ever since he was a boy. His mother had been his first teacher to teach him how to brew potions and it was also what he and Lily were going to do. Before the words had betrayed him, before nothing was left unsaid.

* * *

In a far corner of britain, young saviour of the wizarding world lay in darkness. Sun hadn't come out yet, and Petunia being Petunia, had a habit to read newspaper early in the morning, especially the gossip column. Before Vernon would descend, she would make herself a good cuppa and inhale its smell as she opened front page to read the news before spending times adoring various apparels and jewellery celebrities wore. The house was quiet just as she liked. But this was not any morning where she was reading paper. No, her eyes subtly glanced at the baby's forehead and as she sat twisting her hands as she contemplated what to do. Whatever real feelings she had for her sister had vanished.

As a little girl, she went at lengths to please her parents. All she wanted some attention, some praise that she was valued. Sure her parents would praise her; it did feel good to receive praise, but her parents would literally fawn over Lily for whatever she'd do. Even when her sister was at that 'freak' school, she managed to send letters and small gifts. Whatever petunia would do to top her sister, it faded in contrast to her sister. Why? Because she had magic. To her parents it was just sibling rivalry and it pricked her every time they favoured her. She went to a special school while a common high school awaited for her. No matter what she did to prove her worth it was always, always less appreciated than her sister.

As years passed, her resentment increased further. Even when she brought home the boy, which she hoped to get married, her parents didn't like her choice. Her parents didn't put in so many words, but the looks on their face spoke volumes. Then her parents were killed, by those freaks and it was all her fault. From that time Lily Potter was dead to her, and she didn't need any memories or reminders of 'that' world ever again. And thus, her death didn't affect her in a way most deaths would affect her.

She closed her eyes as she re-read letter accompanied by the baby. It was strange, for her contemplating what she would do with 'it'. How dare they simply put a child in front of the door with a note? How dare they presume that they would take the him in? She was well aware of what freaks thought for people like her. That didn't give them right to just expect them to obey like servants, she thought and flicked her eyes at the sleeping baby.

Anger boiled in her as she looked on the boy. Anger at the freaks, and she knew that he would be just like them. Well she would show the freak who was the boss of this house and who was the servant.

* * *

The goblin nation was working overtime. Goblins were known to work hard, to manage accounts of people. They would work relentlessly till their work was finished. No one had ever heard them complaining about account settlement. Their small 'fee' would sometimes bring good amount of gold to them. Yes, there were times when there was a dispute in account settlement when two or more parties would be involved. Goblins would absolutely hate it when wizards would cast a suspicious eye on them when they would finalize the claim. Thus to say that goblin nation was working overtime was saying something. They were trying to settle the account of the 'Potter's.'

Harry James Potter, now the sole heir of the vaults and the properties; goblins were busy in transferring the deeds to him.

Word had reached the Gringotts Department of Information and Credibility that the Dark Lord Voldemort, was dead. Goblins were well aware of the threat of the Dark Lord. He had number of followers and he considered them expendable. Goblins however, never considered fellow goblin as a thing to be used only to be thrown away when it looses its value. The prospect of being drawn into a war over it had not been a pleasant one. Oh, they would probably win that war, but it would not be without costs. The Goblins clearly owed the boy a great debt, and goblins always paid their debts.

"Still working on the Potter vaults?" Sharpclaw remarked snidely to Barchoke. His jealousy was quite plain for Barchoke having to manage a good fortune of the Potter's while he managed a lowly account.

"It's nasty business." Barchoke said offhandedly. He was too busy to pay attention to his jibes. Sharpclaw wanted to retort back and was currently in process of thinking a clever way to come back at him. In the meantime the director of the bank stepped inside.

"How goes the settlement of Potter Vaults, Barchoke?" Ragnarok walked in, he had been informed of troubles by Barchoke of Potter's account settlement. The enmity ceased and both stood up to honor director of Gringotts.

"Its troubling Director Ragnarok." Barchoke said in what appeared to be respectful tone.

"How so?" Ragnarok said. Ragnarok was above looking over the account managers, but Gringotts were known for their efficiency and swiftness in things like this. It also helped that goblins owed a debt to him the Potter's.

"The will of James Charlus Potter and Lily James Potter is sealed." Barchoke said in a irritable tone.

"Who sealed the wills?" Ragnarok demanded. It was a well established fact that ministry does not interfere in the business of Gringotts and goblins would leave them alone. The wills of Pureblood families would be enacted by the goblins unless specified otherwise. They were responsible for financial accounts after all.

"Albus Dumbledore." Barchoke replied. All three goblins fumed. He held too much power to be tousled with. 'Well two can play that game', Ragnarok thought.

"Seal the vaults! If he thinks we would do anything without the wills then he is mistaken." Ragnarok commanded.

"What about the...estates of Dark lord?" The last part was said in a whisper. Ears of goblin present perked up.

"He is on record claiming the estates of 40 British families that he wiped out, killed to the last member, and another 59 families outside of Britain. All the proper paperwork was filed and witnessed claiming over the deeds. Some of the estates are very small, but others are huge. In addition there is a lot of money that was stolen from the ministry." Ragnarok replied in a monotonous voice going over the facts of his file. He didn't have his vault in Gringotts but the deeds were presented by his representative to notify them.

"The law dictates..." Barchoke began.

"I very well know what the law dictates!" Ragnarok snapped. If they would follow the law, then Barchoke would be handling the richest boy in all over Europe possibly in most parts of the world.

"Pass everything over to him and seal everything, until he comes to claim it in person."

"The ministry will want their money back." Sharpclaw said cautiously.

"We want the Potter's will back. Even if they demand, the stolen money, they would first have to prove that it was actually stolen by 'him'. I would like to see Fudge pointing fingers to the people he had just released.

"What if they demand the properties in name of 'him'?" Barchoke asked tentatively.

"The claim of ownership clearly goes to Potter boy by right of conquest. They can't possibly bend that particular law, it has been the law of the land since and purebloods won't change the law that benefits them." Ragnarok sneered.

"Ministry isn't so foolish to claim over other people's rightful property, especially Potter's properties. Seal the properties belonging the boy too, I don't want ministry trying anything funny." Ragnarok gave a feral smile, and the two goblins followed. Ragnarok left Barchoke to his work and serenely walked out of his office while sharpclaw squirmed in jealousy.

The hundreds of elf's bound to their property yearned to connect with their master, and do something useful. Many house-elf's had given birth and now had to take care of their families. Without their master, they would all die. They were without choice, and thus stayed in their manors meanwhile looking after their master's house.

* * *

Baba Yaga thought about what what she'd learnt. Dementors were now regular visitors and she would usually converse with them from time to time. They would flock in few numbers and give their greetings to the witch. The images she had 'downloaded' from dementors provided quite an insight in today's world. She was sceptical about what she had learnt. The wizarding world had not changed much. The people who were in power, or had wealth still ruled over the common masses. The 'ministry' was a new concept to her, and she connected them to them to being king of the country. The only difference between them was the powerful people were in charge in making decisions and passing the law.

It certainly provided a nice illusion over the common masses, that they held power. Since, only the pure-bloods controlled the ministry, they could dictate new laws in decisions on their whim, she reasoned. She had heard the word 'wizengamot' or something, it was hard to recognize what the dementors were trying to communicate. She learnt about the natures of dementors and was ecstatic about their power. However, sucking the soul and happy emotions was an alternative diet to them. It took lot of effort on them to 'digest' the energy from emotions and lot harder from souls. Souls while being a good source of food, was not ideal. And they hoped that she could provide them with something better.

Now she had started a side project, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. She wanted to make deal with the dementors, and currently she was trying to figure out what actually pleased them. A newly formed pudding(of sorts) lay in her hands, as she added ingredients. She had a faint idea of what would constitute their diet. It was the same ingredient used by necromancers- 'Pile of vile essence' or black goo, as she referred to it. Add a drop of vitality, and you get an animated corpse. But for now, she was incorporating these ingredients in pudding. Ministry didn't allow them to suck out happiness from other people. Even she didn't fancy dementors sucking her emotions. So, she would fatten them up- literally speaking. Lord Voldemort controlled dementors because he had offered them free reign over common masses. They wanted to feed and Lord Voldemort had provided them with food.

She knew exactly how powerful that made him- to be able to control dementors. She would utilize it to the same effect, to her benefit. She had no plans to dominate, but they would provide protection and she wanted to get all the protection she could get. Also, in the time of need she could call on their support. The ministry were under illusion that they controlled the dementors, but dementors had pledged themselves strictly to Lord Azkaban, or its throne. Since there was no one to claim it, blood or magic wise, it had fallen under jurisdiction of Ministry. Ministry and people seemed to be ignorant about the way claims were made in the old days.

However, full recipe would have to wait since she was undergoing the purification rituals. The 'Light' energy had aversion to the energy which she was familiar with. And hence she was far away from her house, so as not to contaminate it. She now had a vague sense of purpose, to find a balance between two magics. Light and dark, and was it just coincidence or not; she didn't know but that was the basic aim of a necromancer. Respect life and death, Light and Dark, these two terms were usually synonymous. The basic aim, she had overlooked and now she would take steps that it never happened again, ever.

She walked back to her house with a spring in her step. Doing something helped her not to focus on the havoc raging inside her mind. The grasp of Evil was slowly weakening and Yaga could feel the the energies fighting to establish themselves. She did realize that the battle had just begun and it would be a while and lot of pain later she could call herself sane.

* * *

A/N: Time jump on the way!


	5. Establishment- 2

A/N: A big thanks to those who have reviewed. You guys just made my day! Here's the latest chapter in the story. I think I have done a decent job of writing while improving steadily. Let me know what you think.

A/N 1: Probably won't be seeing Lord Azkaban again. He's dead. I have planned something for Azkaban in general though.

Disclaimer: I always strive to be original but, given the amount of HP fan-fiction out there, almost everything has probably been done before. Oh and I don't own Harry Potter, they belong to Jk.

* * *

Five years passed swiftly and Baba Yaga roamed freely in Diagon Alley. Many things had come to pass since the time she chose to settle here, in Great Britain. She had made excellent contacts to the Apothecary- Slug & Jiggers and Flourish and Blotts. She would go and provide rare potion ingredients and in turn get store credit and galleons for her 'trouble.' For two years she stood and watched the hustle and bustle in the streets. She was absolutely fascinated in the ordered trade now going on. Parents with their children used to frolic at the end of August, talk about going to 'Magical School' called Hogwarts.

Her purpose was simple at first, watch the people going about their lives and learn from it. After a month she was familiar with the 'regular' people and occasionally she would come across people from 'upper class' the nobles as she put it. She was curious and watched intently as they strut around the place like they owned it. At first she wanted to lash out, hang them by their necks but she found that people would respect them, most of them anyways.

This not the case when she was around; Nobles would frown upon common masses like they were dirt under their shoes. People would cower under their gaze, and feared for their lives. Here, they would go on their business and would often say a witty remark or two, without fear or reprisal! After two years she had got a basic understanding of the workings of the street. She was not above reading people's mind, and took liberty on going through the memories of unsuspecting victims. From there she got more comfortable on how to act in public and what did it mean being respectful in current world.

She learnt how Purebloods come to possess the power they wield, and how they usually used it. Here, it was more about social status and image; she also found out that people didn't have magical prowess to back up their image. Instead, people boasted about their family legacy to back up their image; they did little to improve them. The noble's were now nothing but businessmen not keen to learn or develop magical abilities further.

She was saddened by it. It appeared that wizarding world had stalled from progress. She did take in fact that the country was still recovering from a civil war but it did nothing to improve her mood. People now thoroughly depended on wands and could not think of a way to cast magic otherwise! Baba Yaga reasoned to herself that this was the condition in todays Great Britain and she would have to accept it as it is. But she would not accept these beliefs as her own.

Thus the duels she was so familiar with didn't result often in this time or place. She found out more about 'Wizengamot' as she had heard from dementors. But most importantly she learnt about the 'Dark Lord' whose name was so feared that they wouldn't even speak of it. Even when he was dead. She scoffed at him when she had learnt he targeted muggles and muggle born. To her attacking the weak was a sign of weakness. She also learnt that 'ordinary people' had made great development and had weapons powerful enough to destroy entire countries.

But for now, she focused on the magical community and was at least reassured the ministry took the 'Statute of Secrecy' very seriously. Thus, after two years of constant observation, she had dressed and made her way to the Apothecary store. She smiled at memory that had occurred at that time.

The store owner was going about his business and paid no special attention to her. She had chosen the store very carefully. She had to connect to the wizarding Britain and she would need something to provide to it. Apothecary Store was the perfect opportunity in her eyes. She had rare ingredients and whatever she didn't have she could get it.

The eel's skin she provided didn't raise any eyebrows, but as she proceeded to her more exotic collection, the shop keeper began looking appraisingly at her. At their end of the bargain, the shopkeeper's eyes had glazed over as he considered his profit in the trade. Thus Baba Yaga had walked out of the shop, with a heavy purse and a useful contact.

Now as she walked again in the store, just as she did every Monday at noon. Shopkeeper looked up and instantly his demeanor brightened considerably.

"What brings you here Mrs. Gretel?" Rollin Jiggers asked politely. Inwardly he was looking eager for today's trade. Every week Yaga would go to the 'marketplace' as she called and do business with that store.

"The business as usual Mr. Jiggers." Baba Yaga had adopted a clever name, for the business. (This is the alter-identity for her. In public she will be referred by that name.)

"Please, call me Rollin, Mrs. Gretel. We have been doing business since three years. " He said in amusement.

"And I've told you to call me Gretchen, Mr. Jiggers." Her eyes sparkled of mischief.

"So what have you brought for me today, Mrs. Gretel?" Rollin said as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Yaga smirked to herself; he was so under her charm. At first Yaga was reluctant to do business in general but when she found appreciation and as her contacts grew, she was pleased. Now, she was respected and most of the shopkeepers used to keep an eye out for her.

"Piece of Dementor cloth, eyes of water snake, fang of an ash-winder, and bone of dragon." She took out the collected ingredients and placed them gently on the table. As expected, Rollin's eyes glazed over as he lifted each item to examine it carefully. For a potion master, ingredients are synonymous to gold. Only they know the true value of the ingredients and their importance in potion making. Yaga herself had grown to be a good potion mistress herself.

"Where did you find a piece of Dementor cloth?" Rollin almost cried out in delight, he desperately wanted to know of such things but his efforts were rebuffed every time. Dementor cloth was almost rare to find, and while it was a small piece about a square inch, it could be used in potions as an alternative to various substitutes. It was effective in keeping potion cool and could absorb light from surroundings. Yaga had found it useful for several of her potions which reacted to presence of light.

"You know the deal, Mr. Jiggers." Yaga reminded gently.

"Yes, yes I know." Rollin muttered.

"So…? How much for all of them?" Yaga said, before Rollin could dwell in darker thoughts. She was sad to part with dragon bone but she had made use of her dragon and was now selling the scraps.

"Well, eyes and fang usually go around 20 galleons each." Rollin said matter-of-factly. He met Yaga's eye for a brief time and added further.

"But since the eye is of water snake and the fang is of ash-winder I'll add five galleons each."

"Five?" Yaga said innocently.

"Fine eight galleons!" Rollin said exasperatedly. He shook his head in bewilderment. She would always play innocent and then question him about prices, knowing the actual prices on the street. Baba Yaga let go, knowing full well he should pay at least a galleon more. It was their part of the deal. He doesn't question her trade and her name as a trader is kept secret. Yaga did offhandedly comment that she was a regular visitor to that Asian Continent and Rollin didn't question more.

"The Dementor cloth is rare, so you should be satisfied with 100 galleons." Rollin said with whatever confidence he could muster. Yaga nodded in understanding. 100 galleons was a lot of money and she would be content with it.

"The bone of dragon, not in use particularly but could be useful in some potioneers. Ah well 20 galleons."

"20 galleons and add hair of unicorn tail in return. Also, put in some cedar with it." Yaga said.

Rollin thought about the exchange and nodded affirmatively in response. Yaga collected the unicorn hair and cedar and proceeded to leave. There was one last ritual she had to perform; the years hadn't been kind on her and pain would grip her at odd times. She blamed the rituals for it, but it had made her 'sane' as she put it. The nagging voice had faltered and receded back. She had also used a pendant which contained purified water. It had come in handy in calming her down when she felt bouts of anger.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Gretel." Rollin said bidding her.

"Likewise!" Yaga added as she left. Rollin had a contentment smile as she walked out. For the past three years his popularity had increased significantly. He would enjoy haggling Potion Master Severus Snape for rare potion ingredients. It also helped to watch in amusement while he would question his source and Jigger would politely refuse. The rest of the Apothecary's nearby were fuming as most of the customer's preferred his shop.

Yaga made her way to 'Flourish and Blotts' for purchase of various texts. Yaga smirked when she felt warding on the books after she had 'bought' every book from him the first time. Now she was his biggest customer; she would buy books by kilos and devoured in her free time.

* * *

The sun was still high when Yaga made her way back to her home. She had an entire day free before she would perform the rite. She muttered about how she had to do all the work around here and how she wanted an animated corpse to do all the work while she could read in peace. She sat down in her garden restored to former glory and sang a melodious tone as she opened a new book.

Magic had changed significantly from her days, as Yaga compared. It was more 'ordered' than the loose form she was accustomed of practice. What she would usually do with the help of rituals or from complex sigils; it could done with much less effort by using wand or specific spells. Yaga was happy with the modes of transportation developed by the wizards. In her time, wizards didn't have luxury of 'apparition' as now, but they had to carve out runes at specific places in order to transport. Even that transport was not without risk. Here, the only risk would be 'splinching', while in older transport there was a significant chance of death or get transfered to a diffrent plane. They would prefer to ride on animals when they were to commute on long journey.

The change was brought by 'four founders' as the book said. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin, were said to be pioneers in establishing modern fundamentals of magic. She loved slytherin most out of all the 'founders' as the book put it. Few days before, she had been experimenting with the "unforgivable's." Not many spells would capture her attention but this one did. There was something inherently wrong with the spell and she being a necromancer knew exactly what death felt like. It felt as if death had personally come to take the intended target away. And then she felt uneasy as a curious sensation had gripped her. She filed the information for later use.

She wondered at the boy who supposedly survived the killing curse. She had less faith in the books now, as she had read her own history in 'Feared Dark Lords(Lady) of All Time'. The book portrayed her as a child-eater; admittedly she had eaten children but not often as the book said. This book had said that she used to eat them all the time; for breakfast, lunch and dinner! How preposterous was that! None of her exploits were mentioned, and she was portrayed as deranged witch worse, a hag! The only thing right about was, she had managed to be feared among the masses of people.

She had now fairly outlined what she would do and was committed in doing it. The food recipe for Dementor was almost ready; she would wait for the purification rite to be completed and then she would make the pudding for them. Then she would check out the house at the 'Godric's Hollow' where the Potter's stayed and try to determine what exactly happened. She also had vague plans to establish herself as lordship to some 'Ancient and Noble House'. She had felt Azkaban call to her but resisted in doing so. Her diet mostly consisted of vegetables and meat was out of the question. She sighed as she watch sun wane. Soon it would be time for her final ritual; soon she could rest in peace knowing that she had paid the price of all the suffering she had caused. Over the course of five years she had been burdened with pain. Intense, suffocating pain for a long amount of time. The body and magic absolutely refused to accept the change, but slowly she managed to make a 'dent' and the transformation began.

Yes, fate had been cruel in lashing out for her deeds, and that was putting it lightly. There were times when she wanted to die, to end it all but she persevered through and came out shining. Now, it was the time for final ritual, a ritual to reconnect with nature- the ritual which she was looking forward to. In the past she had connected to a specific part of nature's attribute; death and decay. She looked forward to reconnect with all aspects of nature.

The sun waned further and she wondered if the sins she committed would truly wash away.

* * *

Baba Yaga collected the necessary ingredients for the rituals and placed them carefully into her basket. She had found out the ideal location for performing the ritual. It was in the forest near scotland. With a pop she disapparated and apparated in the forest. Her first task was to find a pond, before the moon climbed its peak. Cool winds gently breezed through her open hair. The soothing current encouraged her to pursue current task at her hand.

As she walked deeper in the woods, she smelt the air getting damped. The constant chirps of the forests and the Hoot Peckers provided a pleasant distraction on the way. The dense woods didn't allow the moonlight to shine over. The forest was imposing at the night time and she felt the woods closing in on her. Flashes of that night passed through her brain as she recalled the similarity of the woods here and in Slavic colonies. The ambient energy was everywhere and she could hear gentle hum of their own brand of magic.

She noticed kappas and understood that lake wasn't far from here. If she didn't find a lake she would have to perform the ritual in a clearing. Yaga interpreted Kappa's nature correctly and it managed to lure her near water. She banished it with the help of makeshift wood with unicorn tail hair as core. She proceeded to set ward stones around the lake and prepared for the ritual and took off her garments.

Gritting her teeth, Yaga waded into the pond, teeth chattering her feet squelching into the soft mud, which felt good on her toes. The middle of the pond was about four feet deep, and the water came up a little past Yaga's waist. She halted when he was in the center of the pond. She turned to face north.

"I call upon the element of air, and the wind of the north, which purifies and cleanses with its freezing breath. Come, air!" She waved the smudge stick downwards and suddenly there came a whoosh of freezing wind that rattled the branches of the rowans and caused her to shiver uncontrollably. Yaga ignored the gust, then moved on to the east, moving clockwise about his apprentice.

"I call upon the element of water, the liquid of creation. Out of water we are born and sustained. It purifies and heals. Come, water!"

The pond began to stir and a geyser of water shot up near Yaga's feet, dousing her with its spray, which was somehow warm. The drops clung to her in a glistening garment. Yaga continued down to the south quadrant.

"I call upon the element of fire, the spark of creation, whose light shall drive back the shadows and reveal the secrets of the dark. Come, fire!"There was a blast of heat and the stick of white sage entwined with lavender, sweetgrass, and cedar began to glow stridently. She could feel his skin prickle with heat, though he was standing in the middle of a pond. Yaga moved to the last cardinal point and intoned.

"I call upon the element earth, the giver of life, nurturer of wisdom. Out of earth we come and to earth we return. Grant us the safety of your embrace. Come, earth!"

Green shoots began to spring up out of the water and she could smell freshly turned soil and the perfume of thousands of flowers. She inhaled and the heady scent of spring flowers filled her the pond was a glittering multi-colored circle-spring green and amber for earth, crimson and orange for fire, white and blue for air, turquoise and silver for water. It reflected off the water in a dazzling kaleidoscope.

Then Yaga said in that calm measured intonation, "I call upon the fifth and last element, spirit, the eternal flame that burns within all of us, a fire kindled by truth and magic. Help me to know ourselves truly and grace us with understanding. Come, spirit!"

A purple glow began to pulse from the wand he held and settled over her like a cloak and when it touched him, she felt all his doubts vanish. She felt serene, as if he were being held in his mother's arms, safe from harm, and at the same time she could see with her inner eye the pulsing glowing aura of magic deep inside.

"I ask the elements to help me cleanse and purify and banish the taint of evil forever. By the power of the sacred sage, lavender, cedar, and sweetgrass, let my spirit be renewed, my heart be pure. Let the sins wash away. Let me be… forgiven!"

As if her words were a catalyst, Yaga felt something give way within her and suddenly tears were running down her cheeks. Relief swept through her in a ferocious wave. Her heart pulsated with warmth and it felt good. It made her feel alive and she collapsed on the floor sobbing and laughing. It was such a joy to her and never she had felt more alive than she did now.

Unknown to her, various creatures crept through to watch her perform a ritual. Centaurs, wood-spirits, and water spirits watched the renewal process with unreadable expression. Owls and hawks perched on the trees, unicorn and thestrals at the opposite end of the circle.

Unicorn made its way slowly to her and Yaga looked up to see in its black eyes. For a moment no one moved and various emotions went through her. She hadn't seen unicorns since she was a little girl and seeing it upclose took her breath away. Doubt surged in her as she met its gaze. The ritual had revealed her true face, and her lack of beauty. She had considered it a curse and never had shown her hideous face again. Now, as she watched her hands and touched her cheeks she was sure that they were rough and hard as before. She pinched the bridge of her nose and found it somewhat elongated and hooked.

Tears of shame trickled down her cheeks as she tore her gaze away and looked at the ground beneath. Unicorn proceeded to lick her hand gently and then her cheeks. She grew stiff for a moment and then burst into more tears- tears of gratitude. To her amazement she found the skin getting softer and her hands getting younger. Unicorn departed swiftly and soon thestral made its way towards her. Unlike the unicorn, thestral nuzzled her and then bit on her forearm. Before Yaga could think of what had happened, a mark appeared on her forearm. In the back of her mind, she knew this mark or at least the significance of it.

* * *

Sleep wafted over her and she slept soundly for first time since she was freed.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and leave a review! It helps me improve!


	6. First Meeting

A/N: I have put in much effort in this chapter. Hopefully it should be error free(And to your liking). I just might have a Beta now. Hopefully the quality of writing will improve. I am in process of re-editing early chapters! This will mean slower updates. Thank you people for reviewing!

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and JKR's works.

* * *

Baba Yaga was in her kitchen humming while she cooked up her breakfast. She had arrived at her house late in the morning. The cool breeze and light of the forest had gently woken her up from sleep. She was amazed by the wonders a good night's sleep could do; she seldom had that. Now, she was preparing for a grand breakfast. There was an air of excitement around her as she worked her way in the kitchen. An occasional smile would grace her face whenever she thought about the success of the last night's ritual. It meant freedom, like a weight being lifted from her shoulders and now she could be herself. Peace and contentment washed over her as she realized she needn't fight with herself, constantly debate every decision she made. She had finally achieved what she had yearned.

She could definitely feel the new vibe in her house. The house too responded to her joyous and carefree attitude this morning and had changed it colors to brilliant green with occasional strips of yellow and black. The cool winds from the sea would breeze through her house and the sun above was just perfect to just sit outside and enjoy alternate sensations, coolness from the air and warmth from the sun.

She couldn't stop glancing in the mirror whenever she would pass through. Her eyes were brilliant violet with pupil colored black. The shoulder length hair was white in color just as before and was more silky to touch. She gently touched the skin at the base of her neck. The scar didn't fade away at the ritual and she could feel it against her fingers. It would never go away and it served her as a strong reminder of the trials she had gone through. It also signified why she had gone through with it.

She lay down the dishes on the table along with the newspaper folded besides orange juice and platter full of biscuits. The baked beans and mashed potatoes lay on either side of her table and cottage cheese was sprinkled over them. She had also prepared a dish of spiced mushroom salad and made porridge mixed with honey. The odd combination of food didn't bother her. She was quite content with the hot and sweet dishes prepared. She paused in between her sips and glanced around what to take eat first. Her tongues salivated with anticipation of tasting mushroom salad while her stomach wanted the big bowl of porridge and mashed potatoes.

Occasionally she would eat boiled eggs, or make an omelet but the new food suited her just fine. She would mix up various herbs and condiments into her food to make it more interesting. Sometimes the whole recipe would take a turn for worse but she didn't mind the occasional disasters. And speaking of herbs and various plants, it was high time to employ or create a corpse to do the work of her garden.

She liked to see how her plants and various flowers grew but shoveling up dirt was a bit or work for her. She could use magic but a corpse would be much more useful to do more trivial works around the house. She glanced at the daily prophet and smiled. It seemed that today was the birthday of Harry Potter. She skimmed through the headlines "Daily Prophet wishes a very happy birthday to the Boy-Who-Lived." Only quote that caught her attention was of Albus Dumbledore saying 'He his fine and healthy and enjoying his birthday.' In her opinion, this Dumbledore guy held too much power; she was quite aware of how power proceeds to corrupt and wondered if this man had truly resisted the temptation of such power. He could easily lord over the common people and whole of Britain if he wanted.

It was a gentle reminder of the task ahead of her. No one had seen young Harry Potter ever since 'That Fateful Night', Dumbledore had him hidden quite well. A gentle curiosity trickled in her, she too was curious to know how the boy survived the killing curse. She was weary of experimenting with that particular brand of magic, the killing curse in specific.

With her stomach full and proceeded towards her garden. There was a small clearing devoid of any life at the far end of the house; this was where her dragon usually lay and it hurt Yaga to know he was not there. She had purposely kept the land lifeless in remembrance of him. She did want something similar like her dragon but she decided to postpone it to a later date. She would need to know current 'laws' before she could bring a dragon hatchling here.

She plucked skeletons from her fence and added various bones to outline a human skeletal system. The fence was proceeded to entwine with each other to fill the gap left after Yaga had took down skeleton parts. The wards placed by Yaga were most complex in nature that could rival Fidelius Charm. She had thought about everything ever since she came back to live here. Blood magic formed the base of her wards while various sigils and runes were etched on the skeletons. With the power over the element air she could summon the mist to guard the boundaries and outside surroundings if someone wandered this way. There was also a level of sentience in the wards and her home and each were designed with a specific purpose.

She recited a long string of words in her native Slavic language and proceeded to add a significant amount of 'Black goo' as an adhesive between bones. Finally she added a drop of vitality separated from her own blood and watched as the skeleton built its bone structure and a layer of muscles and skin. The ritual ended when she spoke with a firm voice. "You live to serve. You live to do my bidding. Thus mote it is!"

A corpse of approximate five feet height rose to meet Yaga, the green glowing in the eye socket would frighten many but Yaga was unperturbed. She proceeded to give her memories of the work to be carried out and watched critically as the corpse did what she had told. It would've been a lot easier if she would just dug up a fresh grave but that would involve travelling to a grave and she didn't want to go through all that trouble. She watched as the skeletons placed around the fence and wondered if she could add various flowers to cover the skeletons.

With a silent thanks to the spirits she departed back to the house.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his magnificent office chair and took a deep sigh. He had fought tooth and nail with Cornelius Fudge about Harry Potter. It seemed to Fudge that with the Boy-Who-Lived at his side he was all set for being minister for years to come. Albus Dumbledore had no intention on letting the minister get his hands on the boy. The purebloods who had escaped Azkaban held posts in the ministry. Albus was now dearly paying for this particular oversight. He should've been more careful in dealing with the followers of Voldemort. Snape knew all about them and he, Dumbledore, could have influenced Wizengamot. It would certainly enhance the image of him but Bartemius Crouch was already advocating strong measures against various followers. So he was contented with rescuing Severus. He had to admit that the behaviour of him did nothing to convince the wizengamot of his alliance with the rest of the group. People had been frowning onto him ever since he openly defending Severus Snape, while several Death Eaters were pretty convinced otherwise.

And so he let go. He was tired of the war, it had been going on far too long and he had hoped that ministry would take care of it. Apparently he was wrong. It also convinced him that the ministry would remain incompetent as ever and it also reinforced the beliefs that only he knew the whole truth and only he was capable of making the right decisions. Albus had wisely kept his mouth shut after he saw death eaters walk free. The thought of them aiding Voldemort back a body terrified him and crippled him. Crippled because of the prophecy; it quite literally took away his chance at glory of defeating Voldemort. Moreover, he had come to realization that Voldemort was an even match to him. Gellert too was an even match but at that time he was not sporting 'Elder Wand'; he was the underdog. He was terrified at the aspect of losing one of the Hallows to Voldemort. Voldemort already had morbid fascination with death and he did not want to further that particular interest.

His interest slowly returned to the lone heir of the Hallows by blood. Harry Potter. One part of him absolutely refused to give him any information of his ancestry. Such power was too much for Harry Potter to wield and he was sure that only he could handle it. He wondered for a brief moment if this was the power, the prophecy power over death, the incidents surely indicated that this was indeed the case. There was also the case of her mother's sacrifice and thus he was not sure anymore what had actually occurred over there.

His mind was spinning with half-formed theories and conclusions but inside he was glad that he had put Harry Potter at a place where no one could influence him. In few years he would be at Hogwarts just like every other muggle born and he would try to influence him to his side of views.

He wondered briefly if he should give him a visit if all was right but thought about it otherwise. The instruments in his office indicated that he was just fine, or not in any danger. He had quite given up on checking the room which delivered the fan letters to a separate room in Hogwarts. Every other birthday a humongous pile of letters would be delivered in the room and Albus had no intention on seeing a room piled with mountains of letters amongst others things. Also, he was aware Lily's sister and her aversion with magical things and thus had taken precautions so that they may not be disturbed with a mundane things like owls and letters.

* * *

Severus Snape was walking purposefully into Diagon Alley scowling at people if they dared look at him and smile. He crept into the Flourish and Blotts and eyed the new "Boy-Who-Lived on an Adventure" books with distaste. While people were eyeing the books with interest and he could see girls buying the books with a definite blush on their faces.

"Pathetic." Snape muttered. He went about his purchase of various books and snagged a book on his way out. Snape had developed a strange hobby of sorts. He would buy the books featuring on Harry POTTER and tear out page by page after reading it. He had developed his trademark sneer that would frighten any first years that were sorted in houses except Slytherin. He had accomplished this when he had casually picked up the first ever book featuring the 'Boy-Who-Lived' when no one was looking. The boy featured here was an exact copy of his arch-nemesis James Potter. The same unruly mop of hair, the round glasses; the only thing different was him sporting his scar.

For some reason or another, something would happen to make his mood quite sour this very exact day. The previous year he lost a bet to Minerva, the year before that was a potions mishap. Snape was convinced that this was a bad day and it was all Potter's fault. What else could it be? Snape strolled out thinking about how he would spend his night tearing apart the book page by page. He had just one last thing to do as he retired for the day. His mood lightened considerably as he walked into the apothecary store. Perhaps this day wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.

After five years of diligent efforts he had been claimed as a renowned potions master in Europe. Now, he would check out the apothecary establishment he had heard so much about. The more exotic ingredients were seldom available in Diagon Alley as it caused many people to frown upon them. The one's available at darker establishments were not as good as any potion master would expect them to be.

He proceeded to hand over the list of ingredients to the manager. He immediately complied to gather the required ingredients, Snape was pleased by the swift action of him. His eyebrows went up as the last three ingredients were added to the list. He usually had to take a roundabout trip in Knockturn alley to collect the rest of it. He took great pleasure in reminding Rolling, lollin whatever his name was what a waste of time it was and how one could not find all ingredients at a proper apothecary store.

With a swift movement that could shame a snake he gathered up the ingredients and observed them carefully. Giant Lichen's skin, wing of an Orange Dragonfly and fang of water snake and he put them down, not finding anything wrong with them. The wings were carefully plucked and perfect. The skin of the lichen was carefully peeled out, like a potion master would expect. It was perfect, indeed. He fumed when the shopkeeper had the audacity to smirk at him. He just had to retort but more importantly he had to find out who delivered them.

"Quite a good collection you've got there." Snape said honestly and eyed other glass jars with greed. The shopkeeper was delighted at his comment and Snape smirked inwardly. He hoped he would just blurt out where he had been getting those beautiful potion ingredients.

"We also have quite exotic collection if you are interested in…" He said offhandedly and proceeded to total the amount and Snape handed him the required amount of purchase.

"An exotic collection you say…?" A hint of eagerness melted in his calm steely tone and he winced.

"Yes." The shopkeeper then proceeded to give him a glimpse of what he had in stock. By the end of the shopkeeper's dialogue the eyebrows had disappeared in the greasy hair of potion master Severus Snape.

"Ashwinder's fang… Dementor cloth…?" Snape's voice was now laden with awe.

He shook out of stupor and sneered,"Just where are these things?" His eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked at a small piece of Dementor's cloth.

"How…how much is the cloth?"

"110 galleons and 6 sickles." Came a smooth reply. Rollin smirked as he watched various emotions displayed across the face of the potion master. Gone were the days where he would listen to his snide remarks and bite his tongue just because he was a customer.

"Selling Dementor's cloth is illegal! I'll have you reported to the ministry." Snape hoped he would cower and give in a huge discount.

"I run a respectable establishment Mr. Snape and I won't tolerate such lies. A potion's master such as yourself should know that the only ban on potion ingredients is selling of human parts which are incidentally quite easily available in Knockturn alley." Rollin's said coolly with a firm tone. Snape winced at the sharp retort. He hated people who bested him but here he could see no way out of this except apologizing and so he did, grudgingly.

"Would you take a receipt of withdrawal of 110 galleons from the Gringotts?" Snape hoped that he would knock off the 6 sickles.

"It was 110 galleons and 6 sickles before Mr. Snape. The current price is 125 galleons 8 sickles and 10 knuts and I insist on paying upfront about this." Rollin wondered briefly if he had tipped his hand in anger but he was better off even if he lost a customer.

Snape left in fury with the cloak billowing behind him, but not before he had one last look at the cloth. Snape's day had been soured and it was fault of the potter brat. 'Damn you POTTER!' he thought and he disapparated.

* * *

In the house of Number 4 Privet Drive, a young boy could not understand how it was his fault that it was his birthday. It seemed that he had been punished because it. Uncle Vernon wanted to prove that he was a layabout and nothing good would ever come out of him. He had understood his place in family long time ago. It wasn't hard when he was given less food than 'Dear Dudders' and denied vehemently with a scathing remark if he asked for more. It wasn't hard to know that he was a servant in this house and he would be out on the streets if he was no longer useful to them.

He lay in his cupboard and sang silently, "Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me."

* * *

Yaga was applying finishing touches to the sigils carved in the home of Godric's Hollow. Ever Since the fidelius broke, there was not much security around the place. It was evening time and the people who had flocked over here had departed. Some still lingered in the graveyard, but that was not a concern with Baba Yaga. After cancelling out the proximity alert charm and a charm which seemed to inform someone of intruder, she had placed a ward and thus she was not disturbed. She had finished the work and the final triangular arc of revelation sigil coupled with the impression sigil. She intended to know the flow of magic in this room at a specific date, the date where Dark Lord met his end. It would also display the magic of Dark-Lord and Harry Potter. With final piece in place she poured water mixed with a drop of her blood over the sigils.

Water effortlessly guided across various channels on the floor, soon the connection was complete. Baba Yaga spoke the magic words,"Revealio!" In an instant the walls had disappeared replaced by magical aura all around. The floor on which Yaga was standing was a pleasant dark blue while the crib was showing remnants of white aura mixed with gold(something like eagle eye when switched on in assassin's creed game). She waited for some time as two bright balls came rushing in. Soon a she felt a another magical aura enter the room. It was not hard for Yaga to recognise who this was as his aura dripped of Dark Magic. And yet, the magic seemed fractured or different the most of wizards she was used to interact with. She briefly wondered if this was the reason he was dead but soon decided otherwise. A black wisp came gliding out of his wand and claimed one of the lights orbs from the surrounding.

'No, the Dark Lord's magic was not fractured. Perhaps it was a different kind of magic that appeared to be fractured', she mused. She filed the information for later use. At the back of the mind, she recognize the familiarity of the scene; Yaga had attacked villages after she lost control. But being a bystander was a new thing to her and she watched with a sudden sadness of this family being teared apart. Her sadness evaporated instantly as Voldemort cast a killing curse at the boy. Her eyes fixated on the scene playing out as a brilliant white light engulfed the room. The curse backfired and destroyed Voldemort to pieces. She had to shield her eyes at the amount of power displayed by the boy. Only one word escaped her lips,"Impossible..."

Her expression of awe changed to horror when she saw the wraith of Dark Lord glide out of the room, while there was a stench of darkness from the boy, and she could see it fighting with the white aura for dominance. No it was not death trying to snuff the light, but Dark Lord himself trying to establish in a small boy. The wraith of Dark Lord didn't concern her much as she pegged it for a ghost or sorts. It was quite well known that people would sometimes refuse to crossover and stay in the world. But this was a very real threat to the boy and her heart went out for him.

* * *

She appeared at her home in a flash and paced around anxiously. She could not stand not knowing what happened to the boy; worse she knew it would probably be overlooked by the people as a remnant of the killing curse. She also wondered how it would affect the lad and if his life will ever be the same again. With a quick decision, she cast a 'point-me' spell and not get any results.

'Wizards today think they are so intelligent in making various spells' She murmured. The name 'Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived' etc was blocked but they could never block the 'Point me charm' aimed at a magical signature. Just like when a sample of the blood was all one needed to track down anyone, same applied to magic. They could block the spell which used 'power of names' but they could never block magical trace if it was well known.

She smiled at the challenge and cast her version of the spell.

* * *

Harry Potter squirmed at the sight of the dursleys eating happily. He was hungry and eating a loaf of bread did nothing to quench his hunger. His eyes glued to the dishes kept on the table. Various emotions stirred in him as he watched Dudley munching down food. As irritation and hunger gripped him he saw the utensils vibrating around him. He shook his head and made his way outside. There was a definite possibility that he would do something to anger the Dursleys. He sat outside on the front lawn, tears glistening on his cheeks.

He watched the street staring nothing in particular. In school he would get proper lunch to eat but it was time of holidays and he was stuck here most of the time. He couldn't even go out to play with other kids as no one wanted to play with him. He had nothing to do except do mindless chores assigned by her aunt and steal food in the middle of the night. He wondered if this would go on till his entire life.

His eyes stared at a particular lady standing right in front of the house. No one seem to notice her while her face was focused in his general direction. He stared back to her with a steady gaze and watched in utter fascination as bright red light seemed to pass through entire boundary of the house. The lady seem to move forward till he was near to him. His gaze still didn't waver from her face. He now seemed transfixed at her bright violet eyes.

"Are you Harry Potter?" the lady asked. Harry could only nod. His eyes refusing to move away from her eyes. The lady moved the bangs that hid his scar and stared it intently. Then her eyes locked onto him.

"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter." She whispered softly almost lovingly.

* * *

A/N: Leave a review. It takes only a moment and helps me write better.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for the delay. It's been a month since I last updated! Many things have happened in a month. I have now a working storyline till the end and all that remains now is to fit in few pieces into the place. However, this fic may be updated once or maybe twice a month. Both me and my Beta are having a bit of time slag. Also, I'm concentrating on my other fic a bit more. But don't worry I intend to finish this fic!

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and JKR's works.

* * *

Harry Potter actually smiled and Baba Yaga was mildly surprised by the amount of emotion displayed on his face. His lips curled and his eyes sparkled with happiness. She found herself staring into those brilliant green eyes. She had never seen such beautiful eyes. It told a story of its own. There was also a certain sadness underlying that smile on his slightly oval face.

"How…How did you know?" Harry said softly. Yaga smiled as she replied, "Everyone knows that, Harry Potter."

"Oh… You mean everybody knows about me?" He asked meekly.

"Yes, everyone is quite anxious to know where you are, Harry Potter, to wish you Happy Birthday, of course!" Yaga dug into her bag and took out a chocolate bar. She watched with an amused smile to watch him take and eat it furiously.

"Thank you, Mrs.…?"

"Gretel."

"Thank you Mrs. Gretel. How come no one ever comes to wish me on my Birthday?" Harry asked sincerely. He would be constantly be reminded of having no friends or family. To find Dursley were wrong was a new thing to him, especially in this matter.

"They can't find you that's why! You are protected behind Magic, Harry Potter." Harry grew still and looked around if the Dursley's had heard them.

"Dursley's don't like when someone mentions Magic. They say only freaks talk about it." Harry said biting his lower lip.

"I see." Was the response. And Yaga did see that. She found something inherently wrong with the whole situation. The Dursley's were talking eating away food while he was out here. It was his birthday after all.

"But surely you must know that Magic is real? No?" Yaga pressed on. Harry's eyes widened slightly and realization dawn on him.

"That's why the call me a freak." Harry didn't realize that he had spoken out aloud. A picture began forming in Yaga's mind and she didn't like it one bit.

"Why aren't you inside celebrating your Birthday, Harry Potter?" Yaga gently probed his mind and sure enough there was the answer.

'Freak don't deserve birthdays.' Harry Potter had thought. She glided her probes to his mind searching for memories of his childhood. With whatever glimpses his mind offer, she knew it wasn't good.

"Do they hit you?" Yaga asked cautiously. Harry looked away, not wanting to admit it.

"Sometimes when I do freakish things, I can't stamp it out!" Harry said with a bit of hurt behind his voice.

"Magic is beautiful Harry." Yaga said as she held him by shoulders. She sent magical probes to check for broken bones and other physical injuries. It detected small cracks in his arm and fingers. It also detected a new gash in his arm and claw marks across the neck.

"Does it hurt?" Yaga said softly giving a gentle squeeze to his fingers and arms. A mild irritation flashed across Harry's face and he gave a small nod.

"This might feel a bit strange." Yaga said, looking him straight in his eyes. Harry nodded in agreement and Yaga proceeded to place both her hands on his right hand, above the cracks. She felt him stiffened and it proved to her that her sense was correct.

"Heal." The gash cleared and the cracks healed. Harry watched in surprise as the constant irritation faded away. A pair of curious eyes focused on the brilliant violet eyes.

"How?" his voice was laden with surprise and awe.

"How did these get here?" Yaga said pointing out to bruises on his neck and arm.

"Dudley." Came the short reply.

"And you aunt and uncle didn't do anything to heal these?" Yaga asked with a firm voice. Anger had begun to stir in her. Dursley's had lot of explaining to do. Harry shook his head and mumbled about being his fault. Yaga did the same with his bruises and other scars. But the famous lightning bolt scar didn't fade away. It didn't even respond to treatment.

Yaga shook her head, now was not the time to ponder on such things. She needed to know some things first.

"Do you _like_ living here?" Her voice was soft still but there was definitely a bit of cold in her tone.

"Anywhere is better than here. I don't have a choice, do I?" Harry said bitterly. Yaga agreed with him completely. Sometime in her past, she too was plagued by such questions. She realized instantly what would happen in few years when actual confrontation would occur. One can only suppress emotions so far. They were bound to come out in full force one time or another. It seemed that Dursley's didn't like magic and would grievously injure him if he did anything accidently or intentionally. Harry Potter would be killed or he would kill them. It wouldn't matter if it was done in self defence or in a fit or rage. The end result was just the same.

She didn't have any reservations about Dursley; she did have concern of how it would affect this boy. She didn't want him to have a life like her. Not one bit. She saw Harry Potter for what he was. A child, an innocent, sweet child. A part of her twisted inside of leaving him here. How could she, in fact anyone walk away knowingly from here?

"Come Harry Potter, I want to have a word with your Aunt and Uncle." Harry grew horrified, he had only just met the lady and now Dursleys would probably forbid him to talk to her again. He shook his head, too frightened to speak.

"Trust me on this, Harry Potter." Yaga said clasping his hand.

The least she could do was to talk to them, understand their point of view. Inside she knew that it wouldn't work out. She also wanted to beat in some sense of kindness into them. With that she placed wards to avoid detection and calmly proceeded to knock on the door.

The Dursley's heard the knock on the door and Vernon Dursley immediately asked Petunia, "Where's the boy?" Petunia looked around and shrugged her shoulders.

"Find him, Pet. I don't want visitors meeting him." Petunia knew an order when she heard one. Vernon proceeded towards the front door. Vernon opened the door to find a women standing with the boy.

"Are you this boy's Uncle?" Vernon was pleased to hear the politeness of the voice.

"Ah…Yes. Where did you find him?" Vernon's voice became cold and he stared menacingly at Harry. Harry in turn chose to hide behind the lady.

"He was sitting in the garden all alone." Yaga said innocently.

"Was he now?" Vernon eyes became slits.

"I hope he wasn't doing anything unusual, Mrs.…?"

"Gretel. No, he wasn't doing anything unusual. Does he do things like that often?" Yaga said with fake interest.

"Yes, he does that sometimes. It's silly really, come in boy and don't bother nice people like her anymore." Yaga didn't let go of Harry's hand.

"He's too thin for his age, are you feeding him properly?" Yaga asked in mock concern.

"Of course! Some boys are like that… you know." Vernon laughed nervously.

"You lie, Vernon Dursley!" Yaga's temper flared and she took a step inside. Harry had almost felt betrayed, almost being the key word. He wondered what good would come out of this quarrelling. His teacher had complained about Dudley to his Aunt and it had turned ugly. He just hoped the lady would stay away from big hands of his Uncle.

Dursley began to bluster. "What right do you have…?" Harry watched as Vernon's face redden. If this continued it would turn to purple and then it would turn to puce with a vein pulsating out of his forehead.

"Silence!" Yaga said with authority. Harry watched in fascination as Vernon was lifted off the floor and dumped on the sofa. Vernon tried to get up but something seemed to prevent him. His face had gone purple in rage. Petunia stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she entered the living room.

"You're part of_ their_ lot, aren't you?'' Said Petunia and took a step back. Dudley seemed to be content with hiding behind the chair.

"Yes, Yes I am. Take a sit Petunia, I want to know how you have cared for Harry Potter." Petunia took a step back, color draining rapidly from her face. Next moment, she too was deposited in the sofa bound and gagged by invisible ropes. Vernon was trying desperately to get out of bounds and teach this Gretel lady a lesson. After struggling for about 10 minutes he seemed to be exhausted; age caught up to him as he began panting heavily with his mouth open. He wondered silently why no voice came out of his mouth.

* * *

Petunia felt the terror she had only seen on the tele countless times. She used to squirm in anticipation of what occurred next but now, here she was terrified herself. Another glance at the lady was all that she required to emit a girly scream, unfortunately no sound came out of her mouth as well.

Yaga watched the scene with increasing distaste. Her eye landed on the skinny boy and was shocked to see him scurry away. She knew she must look frightening in her state and made a conscious effort to rein her anger.

"Look at me." Her voice was dangerously soft. They complied. Yaga had no difficulty making her way to the mind of the abnormally large man with a walrus mustache. She proceeded to do the same for the women having abnormally long neck and horse like face.

"Your own sister's son…" Petunia winced as she heard plain disgust in her voice. Yaga understood hatred and disgust but not towards a child; never towards children. His eyes were so innocent and appeared to be shy making him so adorable that she just wanted to cuddle him.

"We never wanted the freak!" Petunia snapped with all the dignity she could muster. She was surprised when voice did come out of her mouth and the next moment she felt her whole body sting and her body started developing strange scars. They ran through her the whole body.

"That's gives you no reason to make a child starve!" The cracks ran deep in their arms making their way up to their face.

"Especially when you have plenty of food!" Yaga finished. Yaga's tone shifted as she spoke to him, "Go child, eat whatever you want. They won't stop you." Harry just shook his head and stayed glued to the spot.

"Tell me Petunia, why did you treat him like that? Why did you treat your sister's son like filth?" This time Yaga's voice was calm and composed. On receiving no reply anger boiled in her.

"TELL ME!" Yaga shouted. The furniture in the room began vibrating and the floors were starting to develop fissures. The Dursley's visibly jumped and a smell of urine filled the room.

"I...I never..." Petunia trailed off.

"Speak clearly Petunia." Yaga spoke, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"We never wanted to do anything with that...that world. I had made it very clear that I never wanted to be a part of it anymore. Then they decided to just dump him on the doorstep and we're just expected to take him in?" She couldn't keep venom off her tone.

"It was hard enough raising one boy with all the medical bills piling up..."

"Yes, it was tough for you, wasn't it Petunia." Yaga said scathingly.

"You could afford to buy everything for your boy but couldn't manage to give decent clothes to other." Her hand waved towards the boy in question. She was finding it extremely hard to believe that people raising Harry Potter were not given some some kind of money.

"You mean to tell me that you weren't provided with money for raising a boy? A boy whose name is Harry Potter- a boy who is famous in magical community." Vernon winced and Yaga deduced correctly.

"Ah...But they did, isn't that right Vernon." Yaga hoped to get a reaction out of him and she succeeded. Vernon's back seared with pain and he cried out in pain. Petunia's caressing hands did nothing to soothe Vernon's pain.

Harry who had been following the conversation said in disbelief, "They told me I was worthless! I was a burden on them!"

"How much did they pay for his upbringing Vernon?" Yaga twisted her hand and Vernon was back on his seat upright.

"One...One hundred Pounds monthly." He croaked out. Various expressions were displayed at various faces in the room. Petunia glanced at Vernon in disbelief while Baba Yaga had no clue how much it was worth. Judging from the look the boy was sending at his Uncle, and the expression on the face of Petunia, Yaga concluded correctly that it was indeed a lot of money.

"And just what did you do with the money?" Yaga asked in mock anger. Vernon had no desire to suffer the pain again and he wisely complied.

"My sister... was in need."

"Aunt Marge set dogs on me the last time she visited." Harry added. All the false accusations didn't sit well with him that he had endured at the hands of them. He secretly hoped that the lady would take away all his problems.

Yaga contemplated what to do next. The boy certainly could not stay here and she was somewhat disappointed by the low magical aura displayed by the boy. She reasoned it was because of the starvation he had undergone. She also noticed the dark stench had not quite left the boy either. Yaga knew plenty when she had invaded their minds, and still, they were not keen on admitting their faults. This would probably continue if she let him stay here. Maybe she could take him in. This would require a bit of work to escape the clutches of Albus Dumbledore but it was worth the effort.

"If you don't want the boy, I'll gladly take him off of your hands." She replied. It seemed that Vernon came to like the idea instantly and Petunia was not slow in affirming it either.

"That is if you want to come and live with me." She glanced at him and found his 'Yes' clearly displayed across his face. It was not a tough decision to make and he didn't fancy his chances here after what happened here tonight.

"The letter said that he was to stay here..." Petunia said silently hoping that the lady would not hear her. Yaga raised her hand and Petunia winced in expectation of pain. When it didn't, she popped open one of her eyes to find hand still in front of her.

"The letter." Petunia felt free from whatever was keeping her glued to the place and scurried to the stairs. With a shaking hand she delivered a piece of parchment into her hands. The dust at the end of parchment did not go unnoticed by Yaga. She opened the letter as it read:

Dear Petunia Dursley nee Evans,

It is with a heavy heart I inform you that James and Lily Potter met with a sad end on the night of Halloween. The Dark Wizard Voldemort had personally come to kill the family. He met his own end that night at the hands of young Harry. The protection given by Lily Potter saved him and the sacrifice of her now flows in Harry's blood. Seeing this, I thought it wise to place him with you as the blood has a common origin. It shall give him protection he much requires and your own family will be safe from the remaining followers of the fallen Dark Lord.

I must insist that young harry remaining behind those protections I have placed for it is at that place he is truly safe and so is your family.

I thank you in gratitude,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,

Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Well, it appears that we have a problem." Yaga sighed.

* * *

Harry's face visibly drooped when the lady said the word 'problem'. He really didn't fancy his chances of being here anymore and the murderous looks his uncle sent him proved his point. He hoped that whatever the problem the seemed to have would be solved. His heart raced a bit at the thought of staying with the lady. She seemed nice, even when she was hurting them. Secretly, he was glad that someone finally came for him or actually cared about him.

He watched as the lady waving hands around in the air across the periphery. Dursley's were quite content in the background looking around to see if anyone was looking their way. He could hear some of their conversation. From what Harry could gather, Dudley was sent to his friends place and they were speaking something about stealing money. Harry wasn't concerned about the money, no he wanted a real life and he was praying to all the deities for a better life.

The red flashes around brought his attention back to the lady. It seemed that she knew what she was doing and he was content watching her work and see the occasional flashes striking across the invisible barrier. He chanced a glance at the Dursley's but they seemed pretty content huddled and oblivious to the colors flashed across their house.

"Petunia, Harry come here." Yaga said from the front of the yard, her eyes never leaving the complex design in front of her. An eager harry and hesitant Petunia arrived to meet her. Vernon looked like he wanted nothing to do with her and wanted her out of his property. Unfortunately, Petunia was positive that the boy would be out of their home tonight regardless and that seemed to placate him.

"The wards will have to stay." Yaga said, meeting Petunia's eyes. All petunia could do was nod. Yaga eyed her critically and added, "Think of these wards as a wall made of clay." Seeing that she had her attention, she continued, "It can be mould according to one's wish. Many things may be added to strengthen the wall. One may add stones, bricks or even strong wood to make sure that they sent erected and strong." Petunia nodded in understanding.

"In this case, the thing that strengthen this..." Yaga said waving her hands around the invisible wall, "is blood." She felt Petunia stiffen but this was the best way she could explain the things as it were. "Since the wall is already established, there are two ways to change them. One, break down the wall and build a new one and two, make some changes keeping the original wall intact." Harry too was hanging onto every word Yaga spoke. He finally would see some real magic in action.

"Since breaking down the wall will alert the man who constructed them, it's better to modify the walls." Petunia reluctantly agreed. She wanted the boy out of here and she would do what required of her. Yaga thought she explained enough and she wanted to leave this place as fast as she could.

"Harry, you need to repeat these words, 'I Harry James Potter, no longer require the protection of the wards around this house.' " Harry was about to say this, but Yaga cautioned him, "Note this Harry, this place will no longer be safe for you nor it will be wise to ever enter this place again. The walls will be hollow and it will take only a second for anyone to break into the house." Harry had already made his decision and went through with it. It seemed strange to the sentence aloud. It also felt as if he was powerful and had control over something but he wasn't sure pf what exactly he did.

Everything happened fast after Harry repeated those words; something seemed to snap and he watched in wonder as the lady moved her stick in a quick fluid motion and a funnel, of bright red color followed the movements of the Lady's stick to land on the stone. With another swift movement, a large white light shot forth from her stick on the stone. Harry watched in wonder how the movements of the stick could be so swift, it didn't seem humanly possible. The light passed through the boundaries and the wards went still.

Yaga waited for sometime, and then seem satisfied. She had managed to keep the wards in stasis. Granted that the wards were now useless, they were just for show. She didn't mind much, the Dursley's were now left without protection but that's what they deserve for abusing the child like that. No, she was perfectly content if they somehow managed to meet a violent end.

"Problem solved." Harry gave a whoop in his mind, he was worried for a moment on seeing the serious expression on her face. The party returned to the house and Yaga told Harry to collect his things. Meanwhile, she faced the Dursley's, she did have unfinished business with them.

"The boy is still in your care Petunia. You need to give permission for him to come and live with me. It would be better if you would give up your guardianship permanently, seeing how you have raised him." Petunia nodded eagerly.

"Do you give up your guardianship of Harry James Potter and give it to me?" Yaga asked in a formal tone.

"Yes, yes I do." Yaga seemed satisfied. At least she had her word.

"There is a document you...you need to sign." Petunia added meekly.

"I presume it has something to do so in your world?" Yaga asked. Petunia nodded and Yaga sighed. "I shall come back in 3 days, is that acceptable to you?" Yaga's tone was kept carefully neutral.

"What about the money you've stole Vernon?" There was a definite force behind her voice. Vernon mumbled under his breath and Yaga's temper was beginning to rise.

"I shall also collect the complete amount when I arrive. Do not make a run Dursley, I own you." Yaga pointed her finger at them and the winced at a pain.

"Distance won't matter, there's no place you can hide. Three days Vernon, that's all I'll give to a thief like you. Don't tempt me. After that, I never want to see your faces again, ever." Yaga could tell that the feeling was mutual. Yaga moved closer to them and Dursley's huddled closer.

"I shall also extract penalty for stealing from the boy." Yaga waited for a response but it didn't come.

"I want the documents saying that I am Gretchen Gretel, in your world."

"You mean like Identity card?" Vernon spoke for the first time in conversation and Yaga was surprised that he actually could talk. Yaga had a great difficulty in procuring a trader's licence. It involved a bit of shady dealing but it was worth it. It also involved a lot of headache. Here, she knew nothing about this world and didn't fancy spending a great deal of time.

"Who is Gretchen Gretel..?"

"Why Vernon? Your sister of course!" Yaga said with false pleasantness in her voice.

"Sister...?" Vernon spluttered.

"Yes Vernon, I am your cousin sister, twice removed." Vernon frowned in concentration and remembered something.

"Father had left for another women." He said plainly. Yaga wondered if he considered that as twice removed but she didn't mind. All she wanted was to create a few false memories in both of them and then she would be off.

"I want the documents ready when I come back. I don't care how you obtain it but it should be done." Yaga said authoritatively. Vernon was seething inside. The women was related to him! How in the world his father had managed to produce 'her'.

Well, all he could do now was to see that the money would be withdrawn. It pained him to be parted with the sum of money. He never liked to give the money away and had been contented of giving some to Marge for her dog breeding farm, while he kept most for his own. Now he would have to give it all away. But he also liked being alive.

* * *

Harry arrived at the drawing room carrying what little possessions he had with him. The lady extended her hand and Harry grabbed it firmly. It proved to him that it hadn't been a vivid dream. The lady took him outside and hugged him. He suddenly appeared at the front of a large house. The house was an imposing sight and as harry made his way in, he found vivid colors sprayed across the walls. It felt cheerful and good. The lady led him to a big room and Harry could see a large bed at one corner of the room. A warm feeling centered in his chest and he found his throat oddly dry.

Harry sat the things aside and watched as the lady leave. Next thing he knew there were brilliant colored dots floating all around him. Harry was lost in the sheer brilliance of colors; blue, green, yellow. They were everywhere and Harry tried to grab them and was literally jumping up and down when the lady re-entered the room. A soft chuckle alerted him of her presence and his face flushed immediately.

"They are called faeries you know." Yaga said softly and managed to capture his attention immediately.

"Quite mischievous in nature and fun to play around; they like to play with children." Harry nodded in understanding. Harry saw a bowl in her hands and his hunger returned with vengeance. The aroma reached his nose and his stomach grumbled, aloud.

"Its one of my special soups, Harry. I hope you'll enjoy it." Harry hesitantly made his way to the bed, where Yaga had conjured up a table. His eyes widened momentarily at the display of magic but he was too hungry to actually pay attention to any of it. He loved the soup, it was just perfect. Neither too hot nor too cold. Harry didn't know how all the vegetables or herbs were mixed with each other to bring out such wonderful taste. It didn't matter much to him. Even though he ate only a bowl, he was surprised to find himself satiated. He found his eyes drooping slightly and Yaga chose wisely to collect all the faeries in a jar. The whole room emitted a soft glow of colors, enough to lull Harry to in a state of peace.

He watch the lady to roll up the bedsheets up to his chest and proceed to give a small kiss on his forehead and cheeks. That was all it took for Harry Potter to cry out. First in small sobs and as Yaga cradled him; Harry gripped her fiercely like his life depended on her and cried out. All the years of neglect and abuse would probably never be forgotten but it would be a start to make him feel loved and wanted.

Whatever doubts Yaga had of adopting him vanished away at that instant. She cradled the boy she sang a soft melodious tone,

_"Hush my love now don't you cry  
Everything will be alright.  
Close your eyes and drift in dreams,  
Rest in peaceful sleep. __Rest in peaceful sleep._

_Rest in peaceful sleep."_

* * *

_**A/N: **_Leave a review. It takes only a moment and helps me to write better.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I had written this chapter almost two months ago and yet, my muse wasn't satisfied with it. I have made much changes to the latter part.

Answers to some questions: What magic Baba Yaga did practice? I won't be telling now, but you will get a glimpse about it here. However, i will like to point out that her affinity is towards Dark Magic.

Note: This is not proofed by Beta. I will update the chapter when I receive it.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and JKR's works...

* * *

Harry was quite content with the dream he was having. Because that's what it was after all… a dream. And he never wanted it to end. He had such dreams before, he mused as the vague awareness crept in him and he felt the softness of the bed against the skin. He smiled, it was an elaborate dream after all. However, he had to admit his imagination was working on overtime for him to imagine such comfort of a bed to sleep in. In his dreams there was a pretty lady with flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes. He held strong affections towards her and didn't hesitate in the slightest to call her 'mum'. He knew how these types of dreams usually end. There would be the high pitched laughter and he would wake up in his cupboard scared and all alone.

He was perfectly content with his current dream even though something told him that the pretty lady in his dreams had dressed in unusual clothes and had brilliant violet eyes with rich black hair.

With, a bit yawn and certain sadness in his heart he got up to open his cupboard door to make breakfast…

'Wait a minute!' Harry thought and he opened his eyes in a flash.

"It really wasn't a dream" Harry whispered careful not to jinx it. He looked around where the faeries were kept, in a jar. They were right there! He was reminded of conversation he had last night.

"Set the faeries free in the morning." She had said. And so he did.

The faeries floated around his face and were up to their usual antics. He giggled as they tried to take away his glasses. One went as far as to pull his ears while few were buzzing excitedly around enjoying new found freedom. Harry was filled with a warm glow and felt his eyes moisten slightly. It hadn't even been a day and it felt so good to be free of Dursleys. It felt good to be wanted, to actually play with these strange creatures than to do mindless chores.

His thoughts slowly drifted towards the lady. He wondered if she would want her breakfast. Nervousness overtook the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. The faeries were all brilliant but it didn't seem to lift his nervous bundle of energy quickly rumbling in his chest.

Finally, after pacing for some time, he headed towards the door after admiring for a brief moment, the designs carved in the wooden frame. He stepped outside. There, he saw a small table with two chairs which weren't there when he had arrived later in the night. And just across the table was the lady with her back turned towards him. He walked towards her with a bit of apprehension and uncertainty. He didn't actually know her and wondered what kind of person she actually would be. She had been rather angry at the Dursleys for treating him badly but he, Harry, couldn't just base that behavior to know who actually was. He didn't even know her name to start with!

He was beginning to experience a familiar yet queasy feeling in his stomach now that he thought about all those things. Amongst all those things, he remembered the latter part of night where he had broke down. He wondered for a brief moment if she would hate him for being like that.

It was thus an embarrassed harry which Yaga found when she turned to see him. She walked forth to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning Harry." She greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning Mam." Harry greeted back in a polite tone his body rather stiff.

"Call me Gretel, Harry… or Aunt whichever you like."

"Good Morning Mrs. Gretel." Harry was happy at seeing her beaming. He was wary of calling anyone 'Aunt'.

"Breakfast is almost ready." Harry's stomach growled yet again when he inhaled the smell wafting from kitchen. Yaga gave a soft chuckle and Harry's face felt suddenly hot.

"Hungry are you?" Harry was still surprised to find her tone so pleasant and lively. Taking a chance, he replied back, "Yes, Mrs. Gretel."

"Here you have it then." Yaga said as she placed two fresh omelets with orange juice on the table. He was surprised that he was allowed to sit on a chair rather than to get out of sight like he was ordered to at the Dursleys.

He chalked it up to one more plus point for being free from the Dursleys. He dug in with much eagerness to the omelet.

"I need to discuss something with you Harry, after breakfast." Harry nodded and suddenly his mind switched in overdrive. Did something happen? Would he have to go back to the Dursleys again? God, he hoped not. His mood wasn't in the food anymore. Yaga must have noticed this as she immediately said, "Nothing grave Harry, just a bit of conversation." This seemed to alleviate his worries to some extent. Yaga shook her head as they ate in silence.

* * *

Yaga led Harry back to his room; she could clearly see his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he was trying to remember what he had done wrong. She decided to get straight to the point, "What do you know about Magic, Harry?" Harry visibly deflated, his shoulders relaxed.

"Nothing much really." Harry spoke slowly. His eyes sparkled on hope that he was about to witness more magic. Yaga had thought that Petunia had at least told him why all the unusual things were happening around him but she was wrong. She wondered if the boy thought that they were the only two of them who could perform magic. Thus she proceeded to explain all about the magical world. She explained everything that she knew with the best of her ability; she didn't leave out his parent's deaths as well as the one who had murdered them.

"But I don't even remember what happened!" Harry exclaimed. Yaga had to stifle a laugh. Out of all the things, he was more concerned of him being famous and some sadness of his parent's death. She could see the boy being overwhelmed with information and chose to stop. But what Yaga wanted to talk about came next. She hoped that he would understand the situation better.

"Magic can do many things Harry. There are quite a few things that you'll find just weird. Many times I often wonder about why wizards wear horribly pink robes with yellow strips, or, when they order butterbeer." Yaga added with a chuckle, and harry pictured the combination and to laughed a moment later. He didn't know what a butterbeer was but he was familiar with beer. His uncle drank rather large quantities of it. One or two bottles were always found at the wine-cupboard where he, was not allowed.

"But trust me when I say this Harry that your scar is indeed unusual." Yaga's tone lost all the mirth.

"Has it ever hurt?" Harry shook his head, his eyes slightly wide.

"Its..." Yaga was unable to best describe how she actually wanted to say.

"There is something in it, something that shouldn't be there." He was now alarmed.

"Will you allow me to take a look at it?" Harry gave a swift nod and Yaga gently put her hands on the scar. She placed her hands to place at his temples and squeezed them gently.

She performed various incantations that she knew but they all showed the same thing- A remnant of a killing curse. Her eyebrows furrowed. This didn't match with what she saw at Halloween night. But then again, it was possible that the curse had left its mark on him. Was something lurking beneath the scar?

"I'll have to look into more books." She murmured to herself and looked at him. The boy was scared and confused. "Not to worry, Harry Potter. If nothing works, there's always the wizarding hospital. They'll know what to do.

* * *

Yaga looked at the chest in front of her, debating the moment when she'd stepped into this room. It held her past and with it, all her hard work and her subsequent failure. She didn't trust herself with the knowledge she had gathered after decades of research. She felt as if she had betrayed some unsaid agreement by losing control over her magic.

Could she again familiarize herself with the magic she'd practice eons ago?

If felt as if only yesterday when she had wielded that powerful magic and now…the grasp on that magic had certainly loosened. It was nearly inaccessible after the purifying rituals she'd performed. She could only take comfort in the fact that she was no longer deranged killing monster she had been.

She looked down to the mark on her forearm and she was instantly reminded of the night when Thestral had given it to her.

Was this meant to be?

Part of her yearned to familiarize itself with her inherent Dark Magic she had in her, but, could she really risk not getting sucked into another cycle of mayhem of blood thirst?...and the destruction that followed?

'But this could help in figuring out what actually the scar is…' Part of her mind whispered furiously. But then again, she was aware that she could just take him to the St. Mungo's for treatment. Her breathing quickened and then, suddenly, resumed the normal pace as she came to a startling understanding.

She didn't want to take Harry Potter to St. Mungo's. It would lead to the questions such as, 'What was Harry Potter doing here? What was Harry Potter doing here? And the most unsettling question of all… What was Harry Potter doing here?

That would instantly lead people to question who she was… She had no intention of letting that happen since she already had not so genuine name. No, it would need further planning and arrangements so that when someone actually uncovered the person behind the name, Gretchen Gretel, it would be someone seeking to earn a reputation and earning galleons rather than someone shoddy and not-so trustworthy.

She had no doubt that anyone would know who she really was since…well… Baba Yaga simply didn't exist anymore. She was long dead and not in a million guesses could someone point out that the women with fair skin and black hair was indeed an ugly old woman that the book had described be… Baba Yaga.

And so, without another thought on the matter, trusting the mark and everything it meant, she opened the chest and took out a particular scroll.

* * *

Harry was getting bored. After the initial excitement had faded, he had nothing do except roam mindlessly around. Lunch had been almost a silent affair and Harry noted that Mrs. Gretel was immersed in deep thought. He had wisely finished his lunch up and made his way quietly into his room. He could see out of his window that the brightness of the day waning and that the darkness approached quickly.

Supper rolled by and he lingered behind trying to catch Yaga's attention. Yaga was deeply immersed in the writings in the scroll. It felt weird to her that she was finding it hard to read her own writings and the memory of the rituals as well as the magical arts she'd discovered. They felt strangely distant from her and she felt like she was a separate entity watching all of this from this strange body. The magical arts were familiar but there was a fog in between them which she couldn't describe.

"Uh…Mrs. Gretel." Harry said meekly. Yaga's head snapped up from her musings and it took time to recognize the small boy hovering in front of her.

"Yes."

"Could I get something to read or some work to do?" Harry asked tentatively. Yaga blinked. She stood up and made her way to the cupboard of books she had accumulated through the years.

What would the child like to read? More importantly, what would he understand? She thought as she viewed a humongous pile of books shoved neatly in each shelves.

A smile crept to her face when her eyes roamed over to a specific book. Rather, a specific set of books, The Boy-Who-Lived- Adventures. This could keep him sated for now while she sorts out the books that he'd require to learn and familiarize him to the wizarding world.

Harry's eyes were alight with wonder and joy. He'd been given books to read and he liked it. It took most of his daring to ask Mrs. Gretel to do something useful and she had not burdened him with chores. He wouldn't have minded them coming from her. Here, he'd get full meals if not anything else. But here there was proof that all people were not the same as the Dursleys.

Yaga watched in wonder and couldn't help but feel a bit proud seeing the boy flip pages after pages getting excited as well as immersed in reading those books. From the looks of it, he probably didn't get books to read in his free time. Her expression darkened a bit as the thought re-arranged itself in her mind, 'Probably he didn't have time to read books and enjoy playing like the other children would do'.

She shook her head and with a soft caressing hand on the scroll she clicked unfurled the page: The Sight.

Out of the five general senses, the sight is considered more useful and open (practical) than the rest. It allows seeing magical auras in Magick-kind. When used on commoners (Muggles) it makes them feel being judged of their actions. Further progress into this ability leads to seeing finer aspects of auras normally not possible or possessed by an average Mage. It allows detecting possession as well as outward influence of any compulsion. Helpful in detection of slaves. More advanced Necromancers are known to see souls.

Yaga traced her fingers over the small script written by her in Old-Slavic language. Her eyes drifted over the word possession as well as souls. She'd never bothered to master this abilities to the fullest. Seeing souls wasn't that useful back then. She had been busy running and attacking villages and before that she was bent on freeing the slaves from their 'Masters'.

Her lips curled into an involuntary sneer. At least now, such practices were said to be 'Bad'. The 'Nobles' and 'Purebloods' would be facing scorn from the general public if they did something like that. They were more interested in taking mistress's or ruining others by taking their gold and such things like that.

She shook her head and concentrated back on the pages.

There was no known incantation that one could just perform to obtain this ability. And yet, mastering these basic five 'senses' seemed the right way to go. She could already see the faint outline of the aura drifting in and out of her focus when she sneaked a glance at the boy.

But before that, she would need to master 'The Sound'. It would help in hearing whispers from the 'shadow-world'. They'd proven useful when she had been a budding Necromancer. The spirits, apart from the occasional whispers of wraith and vengeful spirits had been quite helpful in creating the right sounds for the development of the abilities.

She let go of the roller and the scroll snapped shut and rolled over the table, coming to a stop, few feet away from her. Her eyes were drawn to the dark wood at the edge of the paper made out of the mixture of cloth and wood. Before she could even attempt these 'Arts' she would need to protect the boy from her, if, anything would go wrong and she had the strange urge to sacrifice the boy.

She would need to forge a medallion.

* * *

Yaga walked into the room where Harry was still immersed in the books. Two of the books were lying carelessly on the table which led her to believe that he had read it. She watched as him, Harry, flipped a page and gave out a small chuckle.

"Something amusing?" Yaga spoke drawing attention to her.

"Mrs. Gretel!" Harry said startled. Yaga lips curled into a smile. They boy didn't even know she had entered the room.

"Yes… Um…" Harry said his cheeks coloring slightly.

"Well…"

"Here the…um… Boy-Who-Lived rescued the princess from the big bad wolf and he carried her back to the castle in his arms."Harry said his cheeks coloring further. "And then the king gives the princess's hand in marriage and the princess kisses him on the lips!"

Yaga gave a chuckle and Harry made a face.

"What happened next?" Yaga asked a bit amused. Harry's face was marred with frown as he read slowly,

"Handsome and Noble Harry Potter and the princess lived a long and happy life." Harry said closing the book. The look on his face was anything but happy.

"Good." Yaga sighed. The boy could read and that was good. She lay down the two glasses laden with chocolate milk on the table.

"What were the two other books about?" She asked curiously.

"The first one was about a big Giant kid-napping…" Harry's tone held a question.

"You don't know what the word means." It came out more as a statement than a question. Seeing Harry's head bowed low in shame she continued, "What do you think kidnapping means?"

Harry scratched his nose and replied slowly, "Taking someone away forcefully?"

Yaga made affirmative sounds in her throat and Harry's eyes shone brightly.

"Yes, Gudmoll the Giant took away all Harry Potter's friends and then he writes a letter to him saying where his friends can be found. The Boy-Who-Lived goes there knowing it would be a trap and fights him and wins."

Harry stooped to take a sip of chocolate milk while he continued to think about it. Few moments passed in casual silence where he and Yaga gulped down the drink and savored its taste.

"The faeries didn't come today." Harry said halfheartedly and sounding a bit sad.

"They live in their own world, Harry Potter. They came yesterday to greet you, did they not? People don't come here, you know." And which do dare is at her mercy. Yaga thought as she added further, "Maybe tomorrow I can show you my garden and you can find out where faeries hide and what they do."

Harry nodded absently. His eyelids were half-closed and he was almost waiting for the sleep to come.

"I'm not… strong as the books say… I'm-"Harry took a big yawn and continued, "Not as brave or confident. Not as tall as the pictures of me."

For once his eyes were fully open and looking at Yaga intently. "What will happen if people find out?" He said in a soft meek voice.

"That you're not as good or powerful as it is shown in these books?" Yaga asked softly. She was suddenly regretting showing him these books. Staying at Dursley's had ensured that he would have low self-esteem.

Harry's eyes were averted, looking anywhere except at her.

"You are plenty powerful for a child, young Harry." Her violet eyes were full of understanding and compassion.

"You think so?" Harry looked up, asking earnestly.

"I know so." Yaga affirmed recalling the powerful pulse that had deflected the killing curse. "Good night." Yaga said squeezing his shoulders gently and walking out of the room.

* * *

A/N: I know Necromancy is not as 'Necromantic'. All I can point out is I came up with that idea and it stuck. Most of the magic she practiced was self taught and thus the deviation. However, there will be some known powers of Necromancy as the fic develops.

Thanks for reading. Leave a review.


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